Like Carrying Water
by Leialovesfaith
Summary: One day Quinn Fabray walked out of Rachel's life. After Finn's death, will Rachel let her back in? A/U in the future. Please read Author's note for more detailed explanation. (Title from one of my favorite poems).
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Okay, so I am working on the other story, but I've been editing and with the new job it probably won't get uploaded for a weeks. Also, I am going out of the country again for a few weeks in April, so my time frame is down. But you guys have been so great, I thought I'd rework an old story and upload it. **

**First of all, this story is from a different fandom, but I realized after I finished it that the characters were too much like our favorite OTP and I couldn't resist rewriting it from their perspective. Second, it's finished. So I'll just upload every few days until I go out of town. There are 12 chapters. Third, it follows (loosely) the theme of the last story and it's sad (at first) but picks up. It's entirely from Quinn's POV. **

**I hope that the reworking of an old story on a different website (that I no longer use) and a different fandom works. I really like this story as I think it records my style well.**

**Finally, in my universe there was no Beth. This takes place in the future and the assumptions that Rachel succeeded both professionally and personally (with our favorite girl) are there. So without further ado… here you go. If you guys like it, I'll upload it until it's complete. Like I said… every few days or so. Maybe sooner.**

* * *

Chapter 1

I didn't want to get up. I hated the morning. Call it a learned behavior if you wanted, but it sucked. It didn't help that I hadn't gone to bed until three o'clock. Or that I'd drunk my body weight last night. But right now, what sucked the most… my phone squealing beside my head. Because I was too tired to turn it on silent.

I'd effectively ignored it the first time it rang.

Semi-ignored it the second and third.

But this was the fourth. I grabbed it, intent on throwing it out the window until I noticed the name.

"What's up?" I croaked out. I pulled back and looked at the time. Fucking six o'clock. Jesus.

"You sound like you swallowed a bag of razors."

"It's six o'clock in the morning." I didn't have time for this shit. "So let me ask you again. What's up? Or are you just looking to chat?"

I heard a sigh through the line. "Do you honestly think I'd call and wake you up if this wasn't important? Seeing as I hadn't talked to you in a year and a fucking half."

You know, Santana was my friend first. Seriously. We got each other when we didn't hate each other. But I got it – divided loyalties and all. More times than not, I found myself on the wrong side of that division but I guess that was sort of my fault…

"I don't really know why you're calling. Just that you're waking me up and haven't told me why." Or how the hell you've gotten my number, I thought.

She sighed again. "I swear to God, Q." She waited a moment. "Look. I'm freaking hiding out here calling you in the first place. If Britt caught me I'd be dead. So shut the fuck up and listen…"

I sat up and turned on the light next to my bed. Fuck my head hurt. "I'm listening."

"So how's Seattle?"

"Are you serious?" I rubbed my forehead and began plotting her slow death.

"No, ugh… okay, so..." She was hedging. "With everything that happened, I mean… I'm sorry about shit and stuff. You were stupid but I get it… it's just… I don't know how to say this."

I felt my stomach drop. I wasn't sure I wanted her to say whatever it was she was having trouble saying anyway. "Then don't." I told her. "Just… don't." I took a deep breath and lay back against the headrest. "If you don't think I need to know it. Or shouldn't know something. Just don't tell me. Then we're good."

She scoffed. "So that's it? You don't care anymore? Never thought that day would come. "

I didn't say that. "What the hell does it matter? Huh? You all have your life. I've got mine."

"Yeah. You're life sounds like it's going fucking great."

I sighed again. "I don't know how the hell you would know otherwise."

"You know what, Quinn? A few of us still give a shit about you."

I laughed. "Good one. And you're keeping tabs on me? Right."

She didn't say anything for a moment. I pulled the phone back and checked the screen. I was afraid I'd hung up on her. She finally spoke. "Look, I shouldn't be calling you. Kurt told me not to. So did Blaine. But I thought you should know… Finn died last night."

My stomach fell again. "What did you say?" I asked.

"It was just…" she took a deep breath. "We didn't know… We tried to…" She kept taking breaths. "Maybe if we hadn't been so… We should've paid better attention. By the time we got to Ohio, he was…"

I couldn't think. It was… I labored my breathing.

"Look, the reason I know anything about where you are… what's going on… was Finn. He kept tabs on you. Made sure you were okay. I just thought… It's not fair not to tell you. I don't give a shit what you did. He cared about you. And so did I. So I'm telling you."

"How's Rach?" I whispered.

"How the hell do you think?"

I closed my eyes. "Is she there?"

"Yeah… "She trailed off. "She's pretty much a zombie." She took a deep breath. "You know how she felt about him."

"Right…" I answered.

"Look. They're gonna be looking for me soon. We've got to… you know plans and stuff. The Hummels are kinda..." She took a moment. "I know shit has been bad for the last year and, Q. And I know that it ended badly. But… Hudson loved you. He kept up with you. He worried and stuff. And I just thought you should know. You deserve that. You can do with it what you want. You wanna come, come. He would've wanted you here."

I sat in silence for a moment. To be honest, I was still trying to process everything. "I don't think that would be wise," I finally said.

"I sort of figured you'd say that." She said. I heard her name being called in the background. "Shit. Look Q, I have to go. Please just tell me you'll think about it."

"Okay," I whispered.

"Coming," I heard her call out. "It was good talking to you. I sort of… kind of… you know, missed you. I'll text you later, okay?"

"Okay," I said again. "Thanks." But she'd already hung up.

I sat the phone down on the bed and closed my eyes. I wanted more than anything to go back to sleep. To just pretend like that phone called hadn't happened.

"Ugh," I finally moaned. I grabbed my phone and called the airline.

Because, ladies and gentlemen, I am stupid as fuck.

* * *

Seven times I'd almost turned the car around. Seven. I couldn't believe I was going back to Lima. I'd promised myself the day I left that I wouldn't step foot back in that fucking state, much less that town. Not for anything. But every time I thought about turning around, I remembered what Finn said to me.

"Quinn, every time you run you prove them right."

He was right. He hadn't wanted me to go in the first place. I'd played like I didn't have a choice.

"Don't be a fool. You were always smarter than everybody else I know."

He'd called me several times after I left. When I was in L.A. After I'd moved to Seattle. I never answered. He left long messages. Told me about his day. What he was watching on television. Silly stuff really. But he always ended it with, "someone cares about you. It would be nice if you'd return their phone call." Of course I didn't. Because I was stubborn. And full of pride. Maybe if I would have, I would've picked up on the signs. I was kidding myself. I couldn't even pick up on my own signs.

The plane ride was uneventful. I'd downed about seven scotches though. So possibly it was eventful and I just missed it. I hated flying. And I hated even more where I was going. I seriously contemplated getting off the plane and exchanging my return ticket for one straight back to the West Coast because there was no way in hell I could do this. I couldn't see her… them again. I just couldn't.

After we landed, I was still thinking about flying back. I thought about heading back to the ticket booth in the terminal when I saw San. She was standing off to the side, waiting.

"I got your text," she said.

I nodded at her. "Wished I hadn't sent it now." I looked around. "You alone?"

She nodded back. "Yeah. Told Britt I had to run some errands. Didn't say it was to Columbus but she's not really thinking and stuff. Everyone's still sort of out of it and shit. I don't even think she was listening." She noticed my bag hanging on my shoulder. "Is that all you've got?"

"Wasn't planning on staying long."

"You talked to anyone? Your mom or anything?"

I shook my head. No way I'd talked to my mom. She knew that though. I decided to throw her a bone. "Look, S, it's no big, right? I can grab room. I know no one wants me here." And I didn't want to be here. I came for Finn. Because Finn always believed in me. Even when…

She threw a set of keys at me. "Rented you a car." She handed me the rental slip. "I took the liberty of writing down the arrangements and shit. Gonna be a lot of people here tomorrow."

"Thanks," I nodded at her. "You didn't have to do that. I still know my way around."

She shrugged. "Least I could do." We walked towards the door. "Look," she said, turning around. "I get it if you don't want anyone to know you're here. Stay in the shadows and all that, but… promise me something."

I cocked my head a bit to the side. I wasn't keen on making promises anymore. "What?"

"Don't leave without telling me? That's not too much to ask, is it? When this is all over, maybe we can grab a drink or something."

I nodded. "Seems fair. I owe you that."

She pointed away from us. "Your car's over there. Be careful. And get some rest."

"You too," I told her, as she walked away.

* * *

After a fitful night's sleep, I woke up and got ready for the service. They were holding it at the gravesite. I was thankful it was a large cemetery.

I wanted to be simple. Blend in. More than anything, I didn't want Rachel or the others to see me. I'd packed light, but well… and I chose a simple pair of black pants and shirt. I pulled out my coat. I'd bought it the last time I was here. Thinking I'd need it that day…

Even twelve years after graduation… Lima was a still hole in the ground. I got that sinking feeling that coming here was a huge mistake.

I checked myself in the mirror one last time before I left. I'd made sure to look nice. But simple. I really didn't want anyone to notice me.

When I got to the cemetery thirty minutes later, I realized that was going to be easier than I thought. There were hundreds of people mulling around. Maybe more. I was sort of in awe. I didn't realize Hudson knew this many people. I forgot about the high school. How much he'd loved it. How much we'd always made fun of him for going back and working there. Looking around, I realized how many people loved him. It also allowed me to blend in.

The sky was overcast and it was cold when I got out of my car. I moved to the back. I noticed there was a small platform closer to the front of the crowd. I moved further back so that I could see.

I saw Schuester first. Standing with the Hummels. Kurt was beside them, Blaine's arm around him. I noticed what had to be the back of Puckerman's head standing next to someone in a large black hat that I assumed was Mercedes. Tina was standing near Artie and Mike. I finally saw San and B and wasn't sure who was holding whom up at this point. I even thought I saw my mom at one point, but I wasn't sure. What I was sure of… no Rachel… anywhere.

I didn't get time to think about that. Cause Kurt walked onto the platform. There was a small microphone. "We would like to thank everyone for coming today."

I stopped listening. Rach wasn't here. I wasn't sure what that meant? Where could she be? There were a few others standing around the "gang" but no one I recognized. No Rachel. Kurt was blathering on about Finn and how he'd died before his time and… you know, I got it. I just didn't… nothing about this felt right.

When he'd finished a few other people spoke. Students of his. Colleagues I didn't know. A few told stories that should have been funny but weren't, though people laughed. I could hear some people crying and still all of this felt wrong.

The San made her way up. I stood off to the side so I could see her better. I wasn't expecting her to speak. "Many of you knew Finn Hudson. He was your teacher. Your bro. Your friend. And he was all those things to us as well," she started motioning to the rest of them. "And I can't believe…" she swallowed. "I guess it's never easy burying someone you love. And we all kind of loved Hudson." She shook her head. "Not kind of. He doesn't deserve that. We loved him. He had faults..." she hesitated, "But who doesn't? It didn't matter because Finn was the person who held us together. He taught us to be strong. He loved us. And in the end, he died. It's not fair. And it's hard. But people die. And I know he wouldn't want us…" she looked at the others. I noticed a few nodding. "He wouldn't want us doing this. Crying over him. Even after everything we've… we've been through and stuff… he was the one who always said 'you've got to smile at least once a day… you've got to keep living. Keep holding on…" She wiped a tear away from her face furiously. "We feel guilty. I know that. But he wouldn't want that either… and you all know that," she made eye contact with everyone up front.

She paused a moment, and I wondered if she was going to stop speaking. She wasn't finished though. "There's love. And there's love. The older we've gotten, the more we've realized that love comes in many shapes and forms. He loved us unconditionally. As much as we loved him…" she choked back a sob. "I… Finn's best friend is not here today."

I took a sharp breath.

She pulled out a piece of paper from her coat pocket. "But she asked me to read something. – 'I have known Finn over half my life. His life kept me sane. His death has left me empty. Last year, Finn gave me a book of poetry. I was surprised because I didn't know that he read poetry. I shouldn't have been. And yet he always surprised me. That was his gift. There is one poem in the book that I have read over and over again. It is entitled 'Grief'. I apologize if it is morbid. But only because it is true.'" She cleared her throat. "Rachel wanted me to read the poem:

_Trying to remember you_

_is like carrying water_

_in my hands a long distance_

_across sand. Somewhere people are waiting._

_They have drunk nothing for days._

_Your name was the food I lived on;_

_now my mouth is full of dirt and ash._

_To say your name was to be surrounded_

_by feathers and silk; now, reaching out,_

_I touch glass and barbed wire._

_Your name was the thread connecting my life;_

_now I am fragments on a tailor's floor._

_I was dancing when I_

_learned of your death; may_

_my feet be severed from my body._

She stepped down.

I knew the poem. There was a time when I'd have been proud of Rachel reading contemporary poetry. Now it just made me nauseous and I had to close my eyes and breathe slowly through my nose to keep from being sick. It was obvious what she had meant. She blamed herself. It was a path I knew quite well. I noticed others moving towards the stage, intent on sharing their own grief.

This was a mistake. I didn't need to be here. I didn't want to be here. Rachel wasn't here.

Was that why I'd come? I wasn't even sure anymore. I walked as fast as I could to my car, completely content with driving to the airport. It didn't hit me until I got inside and shut the door.

I hadn't cried.

Not once. Not since Santana had told me. I didn't know what that meant either. I didn't know what anything meant anymore. My ticket wasn't until late tonight. I had no fucking idea what I was going to do for the next eight hours, but I had to get out of here. And away from this cemetery.

I just couldn't go without seeing her grave.

The real reason I shouldn't have come back and the real reason I couldn't cry. She was buried at the very back. I got back out of my car and made my way over when I was sure no one saw me. I walked slowly. I wasn't sure I was ready for this. And then I saw the tombstone. I stopped dead in my tracks though, because I wasn't alone.

Rachel was sitting down in front of it.

I stopped moving. This was why she hadn't come to the funeral, wake, or whatever that just was. Her back was to me and she looked like she had on a pair of pajamas. Like she'd just gotten out of bed. I stayed where I was a bit longer. Her shoulders were moving softly and I assumed she was crying,

Yep. I needed to get out of here. Fast.

I moved to turn around and then I felt someone walk up. I quickly turned around and noticed a woman who had been standing off to side of Puckerman. I hid behind a tree about thirty feet away from them.

"Rachel?" The girl said, putting her hand on her shoulder. "Why don't you come back with us?"

She shook her head, "I'd rather not."

The girl bent down beside her and wrapped her arms around her. I felt a little sick. She was speaking lightly but it was a quiet day and I was straining to listen. "It's not healthy, you sitting out here." She looked up at the sky. "I think it may rain."

Rachel was sitting on her knees beside her. She moved to sit all the way down and shook the girl off. "I need to be alone. I'll come later."

The girl stood up, but not before kissing her on the cheek. "I love you." I felt my stomach clinch.

"I know," Rachel whispered.

She shook her head and left. I waited until she was really gone before I decided to leave. I shouldn't have come here. I just…

"So that's it? You come all this way and what… you just leave?"

"Rachel?" I whispered.

I heard her sigh. "Expecting someone else?" She finally turned towards where I was standing. "I know you're there. So you might as well come out."

I stepped around the tree. It was hard looking at her now that I knew she could see me. "I shouldn't have come."

She sighed again. "No." She pulled her knees to her chest and laid her cheek on top of them. She was facing me.

I didn't move. "I don't know what to say."

She raised her head up and frowned. "No one does," she answered, turning towards the grave again.

She didn't say anything else. And I wasn't sure what to fucking do. I was standing there, like a moron, staring at the back of her head. I shouldn't have come… I turned to go.

"Don't," I heard her say. "Don't go."

I stopped and turned around. "Then tell me what am I supposed to do." My voice was heavy.

"Do you ever cry?" She asked.

I stayed where I was. "No."

She nodded like she understood. "I wondered about that."

"Do you?"

She stood up and brushed off her pants. "It was getting easier. Not easy. Never easy. But easier. And then this."

"I'm sorry," I winced. I probably shouldn't have said it. She hated that I apologized.

"For what?"

"For Finn. For…"

She held up her hand. "Don't. I can't do that today." She ran her fingers through her hair. She looked so goddamn tired. "You look good," she lied.

"So do you," I lied back.

"You're a crappy liar," she answered. "Where are you staying?"

"Huh?"

"Where are you staying?" She repeated slower.

"I'm not… I mean I stayed at the motel downtown last night, but I'm headed back," I looked at my phone, "in… uh seven hours."

"Headed back where?" She seemed disinterested.

"Does it matter?"

She shook her head. "No." And then she nodded. "Yes… yes. It does matter."

"Seattle."

She nodded again. "Is it cold there?"

"Sometimes."

"I don't like the cold. I'm tired of it. I want to go somewhere warm." She moved a bit closer to me.

I held my breath for a moment. "Okay."

"I want you to take me." She whispered. She was standing a few feet away from me. "Please?" Her voice was broken.

I didn't answer her. Mostly because I didn't have an answer. The closer she got to me, the harder I found it to breathe.

She took my hand in hers. It was freezing. She was right. She was cold. "Please?" She asked again.

I nodded.

She moved closer and wrapped her arms around me. She put her head on my chest. I rested my chin and top of it and pulled her to me. She was so cold. I could feel her crying through my shirt. But she wasn't making a sound. "Now?" I finally asked her.

She nodded against my chest. "Thank you," she said.

* * *

Ever wake up in a strange place? I've done it more than once. More than twice, really… It never gets easier. Case in point… I bolted straight out of the bed when my phone woke me up screaming for the second time this week.

The difference – someone was laying beside me this time. It took me a moment to realize it was Rachel.

She rolled over. "They know you were there?" She mumbled into the pillow.

I picked up my phone. It was Santana. I sat it back down. "Yeah," I told her, throwing myself back against the pillow. "Didn't think it would take them that long to figure out."

We'd snuck into her dad's yesterday, grabbed her clothes, money, and her passport and took off. I was still surprised no one saw us, but I figured everyone was at the Hummel's. We didn't talk much on the way to Columbus. I just asked her where she wanted to go.

"I don't care," she'd muttered, staring out the window.

I checked flights when I returned the rental car. "There's a plane that leaves for New Orleans in an hour."

She nodded. "It's warm there."

So I bought two tickets and wondered what the hell we were doing.

When we'd landed, we were both exhausted. We got a cab. I'd rented a hotel room before we took off. We hadn't once discussed what we were doing and I pondered if it was her or me who was running.

She moaned into the pillow again. "Is it morning?"

"Yeah," I closed my eyes. "You know they're gonna track us, don't you?" I sighed. "And your dads are gonna filet me."

Rachel's father worked for the Ohio Bureau of Investigation. I knew that was how Finn had kept tabs on me. He could track anyone. I'd stupidly bought those damn tickets with my fucking credit card and I was mentally smacking my forehead.

She rose up and turned towards me. "I couldn't stay there anymore."

I nodded at her. "You don't have to. Let them filet me. Fuck it. You don't wanna go back, you don't have to."

She rolled over and sat up, hugging her knees to her chest. "Where are we gonna go?"

I shrugged. "Don't know. Gotta a place in mind?"

She shook her head. "No." She closed her eyes when the phone rang again. "Don't answer it."

Shit. I wasn't fucking crazy. "Not planning on it." But… "You know they're gonna show up here, right? I mean, you take off like that and they're gonna come looking. Probably think I kidnapped you or some shit. I can't believe the police haven't stormed the door."

The phone rang again.

"Hand it to me," she finally said. When I gave it to her, she stared at it for a second before answering. "Hello."

I could hear someone damn near screaming on the other end.

"No, Daddy… No, listen. I'm fine… No, I just…" She sighed. "Stop talking! Listen. I'm fine. I'm not coming back. Not right now, I can't. " She listened for a moment. "I realize, and no Quinn didn't…" She took another deep breath and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Don't come here. I mean it." She started crying softly.

Fuck this. I put my hand on her shoulder. "You sure about this?" I whispered.

She nodded at me, crying harder.

"Give me the phone."

She raised her eyebrow at me, but handed it to me nonetheless.

"Which one?"

"Leroy," she whispered.

Of fucking course. Ugh. "Leroy."

"Quinn! What have you done to my baby?! Bring her back now!" He screamed through the line.

"She doesn't want to come back," I told him.

"I don't care what she wants! She's not in her right mind! You took advantage of a situation you had no right to take advantage of! You think you can just waltz in here…"

Okay fuck the yelling. "Listen up, she doesn't want to come back. And I'm not forcing her to because you think she should. Maybe she needs this."

I heard the phone being shuffled around. "Quinn Fabray, what have you done?"

I hated how much of a drama queen Kurt could be. "What have I done? What the heck are you even talking about?"

"You think you know what she needs? Where have you been the last year? You don't get to make that decision." He was pissed.

Luckily, I didn't care. "Neither do you, Kurt." I sighed. "Look, put Leroy back on the phone." I waited for the shuffling before I started speaking again. "Okay, I know you're like capable of finding us or whatever. And I know you can come get her if you want. Fact is… it's not what she wants right now. If you love her… you'll respect that and leave her be. If not, you've gotta come through me. Get that may sweeten the deal, but…"

"We're worried about her. Hiram is upset. Hope is beside herself."

Uh… huh?

Rach took the phone back. "I'll call you guys tomorrow." And then she hung up.

I started at her a little bit shocked. "Think that was smart?"

She shrugged.

"Who's Hope?" I asked her.

She closed her eyes again. "Do you really want to know right now?"

I weighed that question for a moment. "Guess not." I swung my legs off the bed. "So… do we stay here or do we go?"

"What do you think?"

I didn't know what to think to be honest. We hadn't seen each other in over a year. And truth was, when we'd parted it wasn't exactly on good terms. I wasn't sure what we were doing. "Sorta feels like you're driving this wagon."

She nodded. "And you're just gonna go with me? No questions."

"Not right now," I told her. "None of this feels real to be honest."

"What about Seattle?"

"What about it?"

"You can just leave it?"

"Yeah." I didn't tell her that nothing felt like home anymore. That I just floated around. Not thinking. Not feeling. "Not much there for me." I grabbed my bag. "You can leave New York? Ohio?"

She pulled the bag we'd bought her into her lap, looking for her toothbrush I guess. "I already have, haven't I?"

"I guess so." I pulled out my stuff. I needed a shower. I nodded towards the bathroom. "Wanna go first?"

She shook her head. "Go ahead. I'm good." She moved to pick up the room phone. "I'm hungry. Gonna call room service."

"Okay," I smiled. "I want…"

She held up her hand, already dialing. "I know what you want, Quinn."

Of course she did.

* * *

I took longer than normal in the shower. Half of me wanted to hurry, afraid that she would be gone. Half of me wanted to stay in there forever, hoping she would. I wasn't sure what the hell we were doing but the holding pattern of not really talking and, consequently not really dealing, wasn't going to work forever.

She was sitting on the bed when I got back, a cup of coffee in her hand. She'd ordered breakfast. Beignets. New Orleans and all.

She handed me a cup of coffee. "I've already eaten. I feel very grimy and realize I've been in these clothes for a couple of days now. I would like to take a shower."

I gestured with my hand. "All yours."

She smiled at me and nodded. I towel dried my hair and ate quickly. I found a travel size bottle of Bailey's and put it in my coffee. While I was getting dressed, my phone chimed.

_I'm calling, pick up._

It was Santana. I answered as soon as it rang. "Hey," I whispered.

"Is Rach around?" She was whispering too.

"No, she's in the shower. You wanna talk to her?" I glanced at the door.

"No. You. Listen, they're planning on coming to get her. I know she told them not to, but… I can't talk long. Just grab your stuff and get out of there. They've been on the phone with someone down there."

"Who's coming?" Fuck me. Why did I feel as if we were running from something?

"I don't know exactly. Look, just get her and get the hell out of there. I figure you've got about twenty minutes."

I didn't get a chance to ask her anything else, since the line went dead.

I grabbed our stuff and threw it in the bags. We didn't have much. The shower cut off as soon as I opened the door. I threw Rachel a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. "Get dressed. We've got twenty minutes max."

"What!?" She grabbed her clothes as I shut the door.

"Santana called."

She ran back out. Her hair was wet and her cheeks were red. She looked… I grabbed her arm. "We gotta get out of here, Rach."

She nodded and followed me out. We skipped the elevator and ran down the stairs. I threw the key at the front desk as we were leaving. "Charge the room," I told her.

She went outside and hailed a cab.

It was a good thing. When we were pulling off, I saw the hotel security run out of the hotel. Jesus.

She gave the cabbie an address that definitely wasn't the airport. I raised my eyebrow at her.

"I know someone. Trust me."

I nodded because I didn't really have a choice.

Five minutes later we pulled up outside of an office building I didn't recognize.

She noticed my face. "They can help us."

"Are you sure about this?" I asked her when we got out.

"I just want to go somewhere for a while. My record producer's has connections in New Orleans. And also a private plane."

I shook my head and followed her inside. I wasn't sure what I was doing.

The woman we met with was British. She said her name was Sophia.

"I am sure we can arrange the jet," she was saying, after offering us some coffee.

Rachel smiled at her. I kept my mouth closed because I had no idea how she knew this woman. "It would have to be discreet. I just can't…" She trailed off. "It's been a rough year, Sophia."

Sophia nodded. "Where?"

"I don't care," Rachel said. "Somewhere warm. A long way from here." She sighed. "With a beach."

Sophia smiled at her. "We still have the house on Saint Thomas. Since it's American, no passport is needed. I mean your father can probably still find you, but we can use the private airport."

Rachel nodded again. I felt like I was breaking some sort of law. Rachel was an adult. So was I. We hadn't committed any crime. But I still couldn't shake the feeling that we had.

Sophia nodded. "Do you have money?"

Good question. I did have money. So did Rach.

"Right," Sophia said. "You should be fine then." She stood up and said she had to make some phone calls.

"I need to call Quentin," Rachel announced after Sophia left. Quentin was her record producer.

I nodded back watching her leave.

What the fuck was I doing?

* * *

It took less than two hours to set everything up. Rachel slept on the plane. I was stuck with my thoughts. I drank about six tiny bottles of rum I found stashed in the cupboard, before the pilot announced we were landing.

It didn't take long to get a cab. Rachel had the address. I'd had a bit too much to drink and the heat made me sleepy. When I woke up, we were in front of a modest beachfront house. "You been here before?"

She shrugged and walked up to the house. She had a key in her hand. "We'll have to go shopping," she called over her shoulder.

I watched her walk away. I took a deep breath. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I shouldn't have taken her away from everyone. Finn was dead. I sighed because it hurt to remember. How could I help her? I couldn't even help myself.

I stayed where I was a few moments longer before following her inside.

"Rach?" I called out. "Rachel?"

She was in the kitchen. "We have food. Don't know who was here last. They had good taste though." She held up a bottle of wine. "See? Good wine. Not that you care, I bet. But they've got beer too. And bourbon. Still like bourbon?" She didn't wait for me to answer. She was flitting around the kitchen, opening doors. "See? Cereal. Fruit. We'll need staples of course, but at least they've got…"

"Rach, stop."

She turned around and scrunched up her face. "What?"

I sat my bag down. "Slow down," I said, walking over to her. I took a deep breath. "What are we doing?"

She shut the cabinet. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean." I sat on a barstool. "You and me. What are we doing right now?"

"Quinn," she sighed. "I don't want to do this."

"Tough," I told her. "I just followed you across the ocean, sweetie. I think we sorta need to."

She slammed her hands down on the counter in front of me. "You don't want to be here? Fine, go. I'm not going back."

I stood up. "No one said anything about going back. But the last time I saw you, we weren't exactly on good terms. And now we're in some love nest in the tropics. We need to talk."

She scoffed. "This isn't a love nest. And no. We don't. Just go back to Seattle. I should've known better than to think…"

"To think what, Rach? That we could just pretend like nothing ever existed. That Finn didn't die. That Eva didn't…"

"Don't!" She screamed. "Don't you dare!" She pushed herself off the counter she'd been leaning on. "Don't!"

I moved closer to her. "Okay. I won't." I touched her shoulder tentatively. "I won't."

She nodded. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

I pulled her to me. "Me too."

She pulled back suddenly. "Have they called you? Santana? Daddy?"

I shook my head and pulled out my phone. "I turned it off." I sat it on the counter. "But I want to keep it charged. Just in case."

"In case of what?"

I shrugged. In case I have to call them, I didn't say.

After we explored the rest of the house and admired the pool and the killer beach view, we decided to go shopping. We made our way around the island, bought some clothes, groceries. Rachel blathered on about the scenery. I just nodded. I had a feeling. A bad feeling. None of this felt right. She didn't feel right.

We had one last stop to make. She wanted a certain kind of shampoo. Something about her hair and the humidity or something. There was a market one of the shop girls sent us too. When we got there, she took off. I held back.

"Go ahead," I told her, nodding at a package store across the street. "I feel like I may need more alcohol than we have in that house." I smiled at her.

"Okay," she smiled back. "Meet me back here in fifteen minutes?"

I nodded at her. "Sure thing."

I watched her walk away and when I was sure she was gone, I ran around the side of the building. There was a pay phone I'd seen when we drove by. I wasn't stupid enough to call Santana. No way they didn't know she'd warned us by now. But…

"Hello."

"Sam." I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Quinn? What the hell is wrong with you? Where the hell are you guys? Your parentals are freaking the hell out. Leroy's gonna call in the cavalry soon. Kurt's running around crying. Britt thought you guys ran away forever. Have you lost your damn mind? Are you with Rachel?"

"Yes. I'm with her. And I can't talk long." I was watching for her. "I think I may have made a mistake."

"You think? You ran off with her in the middle of Finn's funeral."

Sam – mister state the obvious. "I know that. But she was… she was…"

"She was what, Quinn?" He cleared his throat. "How would you know what she was? You haven't spoken to her in a year. You haven't asked a question about her. Nothing."

Sam and I had kept in touch. I knew he never told anyone that. Not even Mercedes. Not even Finn. "You didn't offer, big guy." I pushed my hair off my neck. It was hot as hell here. "Look, something is wrong with her."

"You think? Finn died three days ago."

I sighed again. "I know that. I just mean… she's not…"

"Quinn, you are one of the smartest people I know. And also one of the dumbest. Look, I'm not going to tell them where you are. They haven't done Rachel any favors lately. She's been spiraling for a while. Finn dying… it was the final straw." He took a moment. "Thing is, you've been spiraling too. Even if you don't want to admit it. You hurt as bad as she does. You just hide it better. I don't think you're gonna be able to fix each other, but… It may be what both of you need for the time being."

I leaned against the wall and looked for Rachel. Still didn't see her, thank god. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know, Rachel has sat in her pain since it happened. It surrounded her. Consumed her. Even with everyone trying to help her. Britt. San. Her dads… Hope." I didn't bite. "But you… you ran from it. Just ran and ran. And when that didn't work, what did you do? Hide and tried to drink it away." I still didn't speak. "I think it's good you're together. If you don't kill each other or yourselves, you may figure something out."

"What does that mean?"

He sighed. I was imagining slapping him. "Most couples don't survive the death of a child, Q."

I sucked in my breath. "I have to go."

"But they face it. Neither of you have."

"I can't talk to you. I have to go." I was shaking. "Forget I called."

"She died, Quinn. Accept it."

I hung up. I couldn't…

"Quinn!" Rach called.

I rounded the corner. "Over here."

She noticed I wasn't carrying a package. "I thought you were getting something?"

I shook my head. "Changed my mind." I forced myself to smile at her. "Ready?"


	2. Chapter 2

**So I hope you guys like it.**

* * *

Chapter 3

_"When does your plane land?" I asked Rachel. I moved the phone to my other ear so I could hold it with my shoulder. I wasn't cut out for multi-tasking._

_"Seven," she laughed. "What are you doing?"_

_I stood up and brushed my hair out of my eyes. "Nothing." How the hell did clothes get under the bed? It wasn't like I put them there. Were there monsters that hid them while I slept? That had to be it._

_"You're cleaning aren't you?" She giggled._

_"No!" I rose up quickly and hit my head on the bedframe. "Fuck!"_

_"You hit your head didn't you?" She asked. "Cause you're cleaning. I know you are. You haven't cleaned that room all week, have you?"_

_I rolled my eyes. "Of course I have. I can do more than one thing at a time, Rachel Barbra Berry." I balanced the phone on my shoulder._

_"Oh, full name. You must be telling the truth…" She giggled again. "I miss you." She sighed. "Both of you. I wish we were finished. I hate filming dailies. And they said we'd be finished this morning. Of course, now I've got to wait until tonight. And I just wish I could already be on a plane."_

_I don't, I thought. There was no way I would be able to get this place clean before this afternoon. If she took an earlier flight, I'd be sleeping in the spare room. "I miss you too. Your flight is in a few hours. Maybe you could catch the one that flies out at six instead of seven." I knew she wouldn't. Even though we had money now, she wouldn't pay the change fee. _

_"That's silly. That would cost four hundred dollars. How pointless would that be?"_

_"Pretty pointless," I distractedly murmured. I dropped the phone. How could I manage to learn complicated dance moves that I could still do in my sleep, but I couldn't manage to carry a pile of clothes across the bedroom without tripping?_

_"Quinn? Quinn?!" She screamed._

_"What?!" I yelled towards where the phone lay on the ground. "What?" I asked again after I picked it up. "Why are you yelling?"_

_"You are totally cleaning. Oh my god. What have you been doing all week?"_

_"It's hard doing all this by myself, Rachel," I whined. "At least when you're here, I am too. And you like have help and stuff."_

_"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered. She was still laughing. "You are so deluded. I really can't wait to see you."_

_"Me either. I'm gonna leave the snuggle bug here with Brittany. Maybe you and I could, you know, take the long way home…"_

_"Quinn!" She cried. "Don't you dare leave her there. I haven't seen her in a week. I want to see both my babies."_

_"Okay, sweetie. Whatever you want."_

* * *

I woke up with a start. We were still in the car.

"Are you okay?" Rachel whispered. "You fell asleep."

I nodded. "Yeah," I murmured.

She raised her eyebrow at me. "Okay," she finally said, turning away from me. She continued to stare out the window.

I put my hand on my forehead and sighed. I really needed a drink and to be out of this car.

Neither of us spoke much after that.

Once we got back to the house, I realized how tired I actually was.

"You hungry?" I asked her when we got inside. "Want me to fix you something to eat?"

She shook her head. "I can feed myself."

Not the answer I was expecting. "Okay. I know that. I was just asking."

She was looking through the glass door at the ocean. "I like to see the moon on the water. I think I want to do that again." She opened the door and walked out. "Maybe go for a swim," she said faintly.

I nodded, putting the groceries away. "Okay, just be careful." It took me a few minutes before I realized what she'd said. A swim? I turned around but she was already gone. I dropped the bag I was holding and ran after her. "Rach! Wait!" I didn't see her. "Rachel!" I yelled again.

I ran as fast as I could down the beach. I ran until I got to the shore. Her clothes were piled a few feet away.

"Rachel!" I yelled again. "Rach! Please don't…"

I couldn't see her. Fuck. Fuck. This was… fuck. I didn't bother to take off my clothes. I jumped in, wading through the water.

"Rachel, please!" I was begging. "Rachel!" I was screaming.

I don't know how I found her. But right before I lost my mind her leg brushed against mine.

"Rachel," I said, grabbing her. She wasn't breathing.

She wasn't breathing.

I picked her up and brought her back to shore.

I laid her down and breathed into her mouth. "Breathe. Just breathe," I was whispering between breaths.

She wasn't breathing.

It felt like twenty minutes but was probably only a few seconds when she started coughing. I lifted her up when she spat out the water.

"God… just, fuck…" I wanted to fucking slug her. I couldn't believe… why would she… Jesus…

"Quinn," she coughed. She tried to sit up. "Quinn, I can't move."

I was hugging her to me. "Jesus…"

"Quinn, I can't breathe." She choked out.

I pulled back. "God, I'm sorry." I let her go suddenly.

She sat up. "Are you crying?" She touched my cheek.

I shook my head. "No," I pulled back further. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" I pushed her hand away.

"You're crying."

I jumped up. "Fuck you. We're going back. Tonight. Now. I'm calling your dads. You tried to kill yourself." I grabbed her clothes and threw them at her and stalked off.

She stayed where she was. "You're crying."

I spun around. "Of course I'm crying! You tried to drown yourself."

She shook her head. "But you said. You said you didn't cry…"

"Ugh!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "Are you that dense, Berry? Really? I cried myself to sleep for six months. How could I not? She was… Fuck you, Rachel. Just fuck you. I'm leaving. Stay here. Die if you fucking want. I can't… I can't…" I was choking at this point. I wasn't going to do this.

She jumped up. "Quinn, wait!"

I stopped. "What?! I can't do this with you! I'm not going to!" I was sobbing. I bent over to catch my breath. "I can't…" I whispered.

I felt her arms pull me up. "It's okay."

I was shaking my head. "It's not." I fell on my knees. "Nothing is okay."

She bent down beside me and put her arms around me. She rested her chin on my head. She was soaking wet, and so was I. I felt her lift my shirt off my back. She was trying to pull it over my head.

"What are you doing?" I whispered.

"Your clothes are soaked." She whispered back.

I nodded and let her take it off. Once she had it off, she pulled me back to her. I realized why. Even soaking wet, I could feel the heat of her skin. "You're warm," I said against her chest. I was still crying.

She laughed a little.

"Why's that funny?" I asked her.

She shook her head. "Nothing. I've just been cold for so long, I forgot what this felt like." She sighed. "I wasn't thinking that… what you think I was thinking. I didn't go out there to hurt myself, Quinn."

I shook my head and sniffed. "Could've fooled me."

She sighed. "I was just going for a swim. Really. But once I got out there… it just felt… it felt like enough."

I swallowed. "Why would you want to do that?"

"You haven't thought about it?"

Everyday. "No."

"You're still a terrible liar." She smiled. She stood up and gave me her hand. "Let's go inside."

* * *

After I'd dried off, I found her sitting on the back patio. A drink in her hand. I'd put a cooler outside earlier. I grabbed a beer and sat down beside her.

She was staring at the ocean. "Want to talk now?" She whispered.

I took a drink and followed her gaze. It was easy not looking at her. "I don't know."

She sighed. "Do you know why I made you leave?"

I shuddered. "I fucked that girl in our bed?" I asked.

She took a very deep breath and took a drink. "I didn't care about that girl, Quinn. You could have fucked every girl in New York and I wouldn't have known."

Amazingly, she hadn't moved and yet she'd totally just punched me in the stomach.

She shook her head. "No. Because I blamed you."

I shrugged. "It was my fault."

She turned to look at me then. "You really believe that?"

"I was there, Rach. I know it was."

She turned back towards the ocean. "How are you so blind? How can you see everything and be so damn blind?" Her voice rose. She composed herself. "I didn't make you leave because of that girl. And not because it was your fault. I made you leave because I saw her… everyday I saw her." She got very quiet. " I saw her. And after a while, I stopped seeing you."

I took a deep breath and turned to look at her. "So why come with me now? If I remind you of her?"

She laughed, but it was mirthless. "Because I missed her…" Her voice got very quiet. "And maybe… I missed you." I didn't have an answer for that. She took a drink and looked away. "What did you do? After you left, I mean?" She finally asked.

"Nothing."

She turned to look at me. "You wanted to talk earlier. I'm willing…"

"I didn't want to talk about that," I sighed. "I wanted to talk about what we were doing. Here. Now." I gestured around us with my bottle. "What are we doing?"

She was quiet for a few seconds and I was pretty sure I'd lost her. "I can't believe Finn is dead," she whispered.

I nodded. "Me either." I turned to her. "Do you want to tell me what happened?" I studied her face. "I mean you don't have to."

"Do you want to know?"

I thought about that question. "I'm not sure."

She sighed. "I didn't know he was…" She shook her head.

I looked away. "I assumed he was better."

"Well, you know what they say about assumptions…" she smiled sadly.

I nodded and opened another bottle.

"You drink a lot," she observed. She clinked the ice in her glass.

"Excuse me?" Wasn't sure how she could make that assumption.

"Finn told me," she whispered. "That you were drinking a lot. His words."

"I have no idea how the hell he'd have known that. I haven't spoken to Finn since I left." Maybe I did drink. Who the fuck cared?

"He knew more than you think." She sat her glass down. "Sometimes he'd tell me. And sometimes I even wanted to know…"

I tried to laugh. "Well, I turned to alcohol. You turned to a black girl. We all deal differently."

She frowned sadly. "That's not fair." She wasn't mad, just… I don't know, tired I guess. "Especially because you were drinking before you left. As well as other things…"

I finished the beer and opened another one. I noticed her eyebrow rose in question, but I ignored it. "Yeah, well… you said you didn't care about that."

"I guess I did say that…" Her voice was soft and I had to strain to hear her. "I know you were hurting, but…" she paused and took another breath. "But… why?"

"Why'd I do it?" I didn't bother turning to look at her.

"Yeah," she whispered.

"You wouldn't look at me. Or when you did, you cried. When I touched you, you cried. When I spoke, you cried. For three months I watched that. Three months."

She shook her head. "You turned everything off. You wouldn't even talk to me."

"You were in so much pain, Rachel. I didn't want you to suffer anymore. I was… it was… I caused all of that pain."

"And you think sleeping with someone, or probably more than one someone… although," she held up her hand. "I don't want to know that part, so don't tell me… But you think that didn't hurt me?"

"Did it?"

"Why? Just tell me why?"

I finished my beer. I didn't want to answer that question. I didn't want to answer any of her questions. I waited until I'd opened a fourth before I responded. "Because it hurt. When I slept with them… it fucking hurt. I needed it. The hurt. The pain."

She watched me drink. "That's just… that's just so damn stupid."

I shrugged. "Never said I was smart. But I am a masochist."

She shook her head sadly and then stood up. "I'm going to bed," she finally said, frowning.

I wanted to stop her; I'm not going to lie. But I sort of felt like these roles we both play were set in stone centuries ago, so I just nodded. "See you in the morning."

She waited a moment at the door. She finally turned around. "Don't drink too much," she whispered.

I raised my beer to her. She shook her head and went inside.

I wasn't sure what her definition of too much was. Honestly, I didn't have a definition of too much. That was why I stayed out there a couple more hours, just sort of staring at the ocean. I switched to the hard liquor after she went to bed. It was easier. Faster. Every single drink I took kept me from having to think. And more than anything else at the moment, I did not want to think.

There were two bedrooms on the main floor of the house. One of the doors was shut, so I made my way (read stumbled) to the other one and stripped off the clothes I had on. I'd changed after our little foray into the ocean, but now I was hot. And drunk. I thought about brushing my teeth, and at least attempted to do so… but… washing my face, all the other shit normal people do… out of the fucking question. I was a pro, and it took me a lot to get drunk. Especially now. But… I'd done a pretty good job of it tonight.

I fell face first on the bed, not even bothering to remove the blankets first. Screw it… my body felt like it weighed about three hundred pounds. And everything was spinning. Even the bed.

So, of course, I didn't hear her come in…

"Quinn?" She whispered, when she sat down on the bed.

I jumped up. "Jesus, Rachel! You scared the shit out of me."

Her face was scrunched. "Where are you clothes?"

I pulled the blankets back and threw myself back on the bed, burying my head. "Don't know. Don't care."

She pulled the sheet over my shoulders and brushed my hair off the back of my neck. I think I was sweating. "Do you do this every night?"

Instead of answering her, I mumbled into the pillow.

I felt her lower the sheet, and wipe my back. Her finger was tracing a pattern down my spine, back up it. Softly. She ran her fingertips over the small of my back. I fought the urge to moan. She just kept running her fingers up and down, around my back, over my neck, on my side. Every single place she touched me felt like a kiss, and I only half tried to get away from her.

"Don't," she whispered.

I didn't say anything but I also didn't try to move again. I finally turned my head to the side so I could breath. She brushed a lock of hair out of my face and tucked it behind my ear.

"I don't like seeing you like this," she told me, still tracing a pattern on my skin.

I didn't answer her.

She stopped suddenly and rose up. I thought she was going to leave, and… I wasn't sure that I wanted that.

She didn't though. She climbed into bed beside me. But not before taking off her shirt. She had a pair of panties on, but… that was it. I rolled over on my back as she crawled into bed. I didn't know what she was doing. And I was way too drunk to know if this was smart.

"I just want to hold you," she finally said. "I missed that." She wrapped her arm around me, and pulled me completely on top of her. "Is that okay?"

And just… damn it… I forgot how easily I fit here. Between her legs. "Yeah," I mumbled, burying my face in her neck. She was still tracing a pattern on my back.

I closed my eyes. I was completely naked. Her body was on fire, and I was so hot. And I knew… I knew if I let myself… I tried to think of anything else. I finally raised my head, and looked her in the eyes. "What are we doing?" I asked her.

She smiled shyly. It was almost too much.

I laid my forehead against hers. "Seriously, Rach…" Neither one of us were moving at all now. But I was on top of her. And I could feel her. I could feel all of her. Her heart was beating faster. Her breath was shallow. I closed my eyes and circled my hips. Just once. Softly. "Tell me to stop," I whispered.

She didn't. She moaned and pulled my lips to hers. I wanted to kiss her. I tried to be soft but she crushed our mouths together, and we both got lost. I could taste the drink she had earlier, but more than that… I could taste, well… Rachel. I hadn't kissed anyone else, no matter how stupid I was otherwise. I hadn't kissed anyone in over a year. And when I pushed my tongue in her mouth, when I hear her whimper around it, I honestly had to keep from screaming. Both of her hands were in my hair and she was pulling me so hard against her that had I not been so turned on it would've hurt. I wrapped my arms around her, crushing our bodies together. She moaned into my mouth again. I pulled away from her suddenly. "Tell me you want this."

She nodded. "I want this," she whispered.

I reached down with one hand and ripped the panties off her body and threw them off the bed. When they were gone, I pressed myself into her as hard as I could. She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me even closer, and I buried my head in her neck again. Kissing her collarbone. Her throat.

When she wrapped her legs around me, I had to fight to keep from losing it right then.

I kept telling myself to go slow, to make this last, but I couldn't… she was bucking underneath me and we were… I was sliding against her. It was too much so I thrust into her as hard as I could. I knew she could take it. I could hear the "uh uh uh," noises she makes when she's close, and I knew there was no way I was lasting long. When her breathing got even more labored, I rose up suddenly and grabbed her hands, holding them over her head.

The move shocked her, and she opened her eyes. I winked at her. And that was enough. She groaned and began to buck underneath me. Harder and harder. I matched her thrust for thrust.

She half-heartedly fought to get her hands free, but I just held them tighter. I was thrusting harder now. She was groaning and thrashing underneath me and I knew she wouldn't last much longer.

The sounds she makes… it's the breathy little moans that always send me over the edge. I always waited for her, because just hearing them…

When she started breathing out in those short little mouthy bursts and closed her eyes I let go of her hands. I needed the leverage and I pounded into her. I pressed my lips against hers and when she came, I could feel her breathing against my mouth, I pushed against her one last time. "Fuck," I said against her lips, as my body exploded. She put her hands on my waist and twirled her hips, and I was gone. I felt it spread in my stomach and when she pulled me against her as hard as she could, I just let go.

I lay on top of her for a few minutes. Neither of us spoke. I was having a hard time catching my breath. Or really even opening my eyes at this point. Finally, I tried to move. I figured I was smothering her. Even though she still had her legs around me.

"Don't," she whispered in my hair. "Stay."

I nodded. You didn't have to tell me twice.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_Car seats were stupid. Who invented these damn things? I needed a degree in rocket science to get this in the car._

_Kurt came out to check if I had it buckled correctly. No doubt cause Rach called him. Whatever._

_"Where's the bug?" I asked him._

_"Inside with Satan." He smiled, checking the straps. _

_"You checking up on me?"_

_He shook her head. "No, Miss Paranoid. I'm just helping."_

_"Maybe I should just leave her here? It's gonna be dark soon and… you know, she'll be here when we get back."_

_He shook his head. "You're trying to fit in a quickie with Rachel." He smacked my arm. "That's gross. Eww."_

_"No I'm not!" I shut the car door. "I'm just nervous, jackass." I looked up at the sky. "I cannot wait for Rachel to be home. I can't believe she trusted me to stay with her an entire week by myself."_

_He patted my arm. "And look at you. She survived." He smiled at me. "You're a good mom, Quinn."_

* * *

When I woke up the next morning, I at least knew where I was. However, it took a few moments of clarity to remember what I had done the night before. How was that okay? One night of drinking, and I'm all "let's make this relationship just a tad bit more complicated for our daily amusement." Jesus.

She wasn't in bed with me. But she was in the house. I could hear her banging around in the kitchen.

She handed me a cup of coffee. "I can get you some aspirin if you want."

I shook my head. "I'm good," I told her. I took the cup of coffee. "I don't really have hangovers that much anymore."

She nodded. "Still have that Cheerio metabolism," she said.

"More like alcoholic metabolism, but whatever." I took a drink of the coffee. "Want me to make you breakfast?"

She shook her head. "No. Coffee's enough." She had on a bathing suit, with a small skirt wrapped around it. Her hair was pulled back in a bun.

It was dark last night. And I hadn't been in what you could call " a right mind" for a while now. But it was the first time I'd noticed how skinny she was. "You haven't eaten a lot since we've gotten here," I ventured.

"I'm not hungry a lot," she sighed. She looked outside. "I've really missed…"

I wanted to tell her I had to.

"...the beach," she finished.

Glad I didn't say anything.

"I want to just go sit outside for a while." She moved around me. And then turned around. "I'm not going to… I'm not going swimming."

I nodded at her. "Why don't you stay up by the pool?" So I can see you, I didn't say.

She looked like she wanted to say no, but instead just nodded. "Okay," she finally said. "I owe you that." She pulled open the door. "You can come with me, if you want I mean. I'm okay with that."

"You seem like you need alone time," I told her.

"Ha," she scoffed. "Alone time is about all I've had for a while now. Maybe I'm tired of alone time."

I watched her walk out and decided I would join her. What the hell else did we have to do here? Yesterday, she'd bought us both bathing suits. Said we'd need them. I mean we were in the Caribbean, so obviously a bathing suit would be handy. I'd just brushed her off and said "get me whatever," because she knew what I liked.

I pulled the suit out of the bag. And apparently she'd forgotten. I ran back outside, suit in hand. "Uh… is this yours? Where's the one you bought me?"

She looked over her sunglasses at me. "That is the one I bought you."

I shook my head. "Uh no. No it's not." I winced. "I'm going naked."

"No you're not." She sat up. "Put it on and stop being a baby."

"It's purple," I whined. "Like light purple…" I hadn't worn a stitch of pastel in over ten years.

She sighed. "Lavender."

"It's got little bows on the hips. Bows," I whined. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You look good in lavender," she half-smiled. "Besides, you want a different bathing suit, you can pick it out yourself." She lay back again. "Because all I recall is, 'just get me whatever,' and that's what I did."

"This is a punishment for something, isn't it?" I continued to whine. "I've been trying to escape bows my entire adult life. I haven't worn a bow since I was eighteen. Not once."

She shrugged, disinterested. "You haven't done anything that needs punishing, you big whiner. Just go put the thing on and stop crying about it."

"Whatever," I huffed, walking back inside. I sat down and looked at the sun through the window. It was a pretty day. And it was warm. And I didn't want to sit in here all day sulking. Plus maybe Rachel and I could, you know, talk or something. Aw fuck it… I got undressed and put it on.

When I walked out, she was trying her damndest not to laugh. "Nice," she whistled.

"Shut up," I muttered, sitting down on a lounge chair on the other side of the pool. I lay back and crossed my arms.

She sat her chair up. "Why are you sitting all the way over there?"

I didn't rise up. "Because I look like a flower. And I clash with that little green number you've got on."

She laughed. "I think you look sweet."

Sweet. Ugh. Fuck that. I sat up quickly and ripped my top off.

"What are you doing?" She yelled.

I looked around. "No one but you and me, Berry. Not like you haven't seen them before. No way I'm staying in that thing all day. And I don't want tan lines." At least I could get rid of half of it.

"Put it back on," she said, looking around to see if someone had magically popped up and saw my boobs or something equally ridiculous.

"No. One. Is. Here." I told her. "Relax."

"Ugh," she huffed. "Just keep the bottoms on."

"Deal," I told her standing up. I reached down and ripped the little bows off.

"Quinn!"

"What? I didn't tear it."

She groaned, and flipped over on her stomach. "Fine. I'm taking a nap."

I shrugged, not that she saw me… and then jumped in the water. "Whatever," I called when I came up.

She didn't say anything but I could see her laughing. Even if she was trying to hide it. I don't know why, but that made me feel better than anything had in a long time.

After I'd swam a few laps, I hopped out of the pool where she was sitting. She was sitting up with her arms around legs.

"Are you going to put your top on?"

I shrugged and grabbed a towel to dry my hair. "Does it bother you?"

She shrugged back. "I don't care." She looked around. "Why did we never leave New York?"

It was definitely a loaded question. I'd spent a lot of the past year asking myself similar questions. Would things have been different? "I don't know," I finally said.

She nodded. "Do you think things are supposed to happen? Fate and what not?"

"I have no idea." I sat down on the chair next to her and wrapped the towel around me.

"I spend a lot of time thinking about that. How things could've been different. If I'd been in the car that night… maybe I would have seen something…"

I wasn't sure I could talk about this. "There was nothing to see."

She nodded again. "I know." She closed her eyes. "When you were in the hospital…"

I stood up. "Don't…"

She moved her chair back so that she was lying down and covered her face. "You were…"

I moved closer to her. "Rachel! Don't… I can't…"

She opened her eyes and looked at me. "I don't have anyone to talk to about any of this, Quinn." She sighed. "I wanted to talk to you, but… you weren't there. I just don't understand how you'd moved on."

I'd left a bottle of bourbon on the table last night. I moved to get it and took a couple of drinks. "I haven't moved on. I just move around. There's a big difference." I took another drink.

She motioned with her hand for me to come back. I sat down on the edge of her chair. She took the bottle from me and sat it on the ground. "How much do you drink?"

I looked at the bottle and then back at her face. "I don't know how to answer that."

She frowned at me. "Is it every night?"

I took a deep breath. Was I supposed to be honest? What was the point of all of this?

She seemed to notice that I wasn't going to talk, so she picked up the bottle and took a drink. She wrinkled her face in disgust and held the bottle out so she could look at it. "Does this make it easier?"

I took it from her. "If I drink enough of it." I took a swig. "Maybe not easier. Just makes it numb. Numb is good."

She shook her head. "I don't like it."

I stood up. "Well, I don't like that you don't eat." I moved to the other chair. "Or that you found someone else." I sat back and closed my eyes. "I heard her say she loved you."

"Yeah," she whispered. "She does."

I felt my stomach clinch. "Do you love her?"

She didn't answer me.

I took another drink. She was staring past me, at the ocean. I'd thought I lost her and decided to just finish the bottle when she finally spoke. "I don't blame you," she whispered. "Not anymore."

"But you did," I murmured.

She nodded slowly. "I had to blame someone."

Me too. "It's all good. I blame myself too. So we at least agree on that." I wrapped the towel tighter around me. "Is this where you want to be? Here with me?"

"I used to think that seeing you again would make it all come back."

"Does it?"

"I don't know. In some ways – yes. But, in other ways… all I know is that I couldn't be there anymore. I can't believe I stayed as long as I did…"

I turned over and buried my head under my arms. "I dream about it a lot." I paused to see if she would stop me. She didn't. "That night." I paused again. I could hear her breathing but she wasn't saying anything. "Everything I could have done differently, I've dreamt about. I still remember those little sounds she made. But not when I'm awake. I can't remember it when I'm awake." I swallowed.

"I can't either," she whispered.

I rose up and looked at her.

She looked away. "At some point, I stopped thinking about it all the time. Like one day there was a few minutes when I didn't think about her. And then a few hours. I remember the first time I really smiled. Laughed. I always felt sick afterwards." She frowned. "Sam told me about L.A."

I looked away. "Wasn't his place." And he apparently couldn't keep a fucking secret to save his life.

She shrugged. "I guess he felt differently. He said it took him a while to figure out what you were really doing."

"Didn't work, did it?" I sighed. "I kept finding myself in sleazier and sleazier places." I laughed mockingly. "Ironic, huh? Someone with a death wish – ripe for the picking – and not one of the assholes I came across could finish the job." I took another drink. "I figured death was too good for me."

She frowned again. "Well maybe you're right… maybe we're not finished. Maybe there is such a thing as fate."

"Maybe," I told her. "I feel fucking finished though."

She nodded. "Me too."

* * *

After we talked, I drank the rest of the bottle and fell asleep in the chair. When I woke, she wasn't outside. I couldn't feel her and I started to panic. I scanned the shoreline… just in case. No Rachel. I went inside. "Rachel!"

She didn't answer.

I waited about ten minutes before the real fear started to set in. What if she did something? What if she was in the ocean right now? What if she left and decided to go back to Lima? I was on the verge of actual tears when the door opened.

"Hey!" She said brightly.

"Rachel!" I ran over to her and grabbed her shoulders. "I almost called Kurt." I shook her. "Where the hell have you been?!"

She cocked her head at me. "Did you not get my note?"

What the fuck? "What note?"

"On the refrigerator…" She walked into the kitchen and grabbed a piece of paper off the fridge. "See? 'Quinn I went to town. Be back after lunch.'" She read to me. "I figured you'd see it."

I shook my head violently. "No! No I didn't see it!"

She rubbed my arm. "Okay. Well calm down." She smiled softly. "I'm back. It's okay."

I nodded and tried to control my breathing. "Okay," I finally said.

She pulled something out of one of the bags I'd just now noticed she was carrying. "I got you a different bathing suit. See?" She said, holding it up. "Black. Is that better?"

Jesus Christ. She'd just about given me a coronary. I finally nodded. "That was sweet," I whispered.

She smiled again and shrugged. "Sometimes I'm sweet, Quinn." She handed it to me. "Do you like it?"

I nodded and laid it down on the counter and pulled her to me. "Don't do that again," I whispered in her hair. "Please," my voice was desperate.

"I'm sorry," she said. She pulled away and put her hand on my cheek. "Look at me." I did. "I'm sorry. Okay?" She brushed my hair out of my eyes with her other hand. "I just wanted to do something nice for you. I should've woken you up first, but I wanted it to be a surprise."

"It's okay," I said, pulling her back to me. I didn't want to let her go.

She let me hold her for a moment before pulling back. "I called my daddy while I was in town," she said.

Great… I nodded. "How's the big guy?"

She sat the other bags she was carrying down. "He said you called Sam yesterday."

Of course he did. Sam was a dumbass. "Look Rach, I'm…"

She shook her head. "It's okay. I understand." She held up her hand to stop me.

"What did you tell him?" I asked her.

"That we were fine. But…" She trailed off.

"But what?"

"He said if we just called and checked in with them… that they would… they would back off and stop freaking out so much. He caught a case and he can't really come here and my dad won't fly without him. He said they just wanted to make sure I was okay. But that everybody else was really worried about us…"

Doubt they gave a shit if I was fine. "You think that'll work? Calling everyone?"

She shook her head. "No. But… we could try."

I shrugged. I didn't really care either way. Most of them hadn't done me any favors lately. But I guess we at least owed Santana an explanation seeing as she had stuck her neck out for us. "Did he say anything about San?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. He didn't say." She sighed.

She turned her phone on. "Should I?"

I gestured with my hand. "Go for it…"

She put the phone on speaker and dialed. She smiled sadly at me while it rang.

"Hello?" Kurt said on the third ring.

"Kurt," Rachel answered.

"Rachel! Oh my god! Where are you?"

She closed her eyes. "You know I'm not going to tell you that."

"Are you okay? Has Quinn hurt you?"

What the hell was wrong with him? "She's fine," I said. Jesus.

"No one asked you!" He screamed through the phone. "What are you doing to her?"

"Nothing," Rachel sighed.

"Rachel, just tell us where you are," I heard Puckerman say. Apparently, we were on speakerphone as well. Asshole.

"No, Noah. I just wanted to call and tell you guys we're okay."

"Rachel," Brittany started. "Is Quinn making you say that? Just tell us okay. We'll protect you."

Rachel rolled her eyes. "Quinn isn't making me say anything, Britt."

"Did she take you, Rachel?" It was a voice I didn't recognize. I knew who it was though.

I started to speak, but Rach put her hand on my arm. "No. No one took me anywhere. If anything I made Quinn go. Not the other way around." She rubbed my arm. "Look, I know you guys are upset and that you think I've made a spectacular mistake or something equally detrimental but I just can't be there anymore. I need you to respect that."

"We just can't believe that," Kurt said.

"Rachel," Mercedes started. "We know this is hard. We know you're hurting but if you'll just come home we can…" she didn't finish.

Rachel looked near tears.

I was sort of sick of this. "Do what, 'Cedes?" I got closer to the phone. "What can any of you do?"

"More than you," the new one spat out.

"Listen, I don't know you. But don't pretend you know me either." Bitch.

"I know enough," she growled.

Rachel put her hand on my chest and turned to the phone. "I don't want to fight with any of you. I need you to understand that I'm okay. And so is Quinn."

"We don't care if Quinn is okay," Puck said.

Ditto.

"I do," I heard Santana say in the background. "In case anyone is wondering."

"Ugh," Kurt moaned. "Look Rachel, we just need to see you. That's it."

She raised her eyebrow at me. "I don't think so."

I shrugged. "Maybe they'll back off, Rach," I whispered. "If they come here and see you're okay."

"I don't know…" she started.

"You're at one of the studio's houses?" He asked. He sounded hopeful. "If we come there it will just be to see that you're okay. If you are," He paused. "If you are, and you want to stay, we'll leave you alone."

She looked at me questioningly. I nodded. I didn't want them here; don't get me wrong. But if they would back off, well then maybe…

Rachel finally sighed. "Fine. " She gave them the address from the phone. "One night. And then you leave. Promise me that."

"We promise, " Britt damn near squealed through the phone.

"Tomorrow night. Okay?" Kurt asked.

"Okay," she whispered, hanging up the line. She turned to me. "Are you sure?"

I shrugged. The fact was, I wasn't sure. "Whatever you need."

She nodded.

* * *

The rest of the day we sort of spent in silence. It was… well, not exactly comfortable, but at least it was quiet. I thought about not drinking anymore, but the truth was… I hadn't gone longer than twelve hours without drinking anything in close to a year. And yeah, I had built up a tolerance, but I also had an addiction. I wasn't that stupid. I knew it.

After dinner, which I made Rachel eat, we sat down in the living room. She had a glass of wine. I had a beer. There were dozens of books in the house. Most of them were shit, but I'd found a few worth reading. Rachel was flipping through a magazine while I read.

She broke the silence after a while. "Do we need to talk about Hope?"

I closed the book I was reading and sat it on my lap. "I don't know. Do we?"

She closed her magazine and took a drink of her wine. "I don't want it to be uncomfortable tomorrow."

" I doubt anything is going to make this comfortable." I took another drink. "I figure it's not any of my business," I finally said.

She nodded. "I guess." She looked away. "Does it bother you?"

"What the hell do you think?" I asked her.

"I don't know, Quinn. That's why I asked."

"Fuck yeah it bothers me, Rachel. She's basically sleeping with the only person I've ever loved. To say it bothers me would be the understatement of the century." I went to the liquor cabinet and grabbed a bottle of bourbon. "It's not like I can do anything about it. I made the bed I'm lying in right now."

"Have you…" she looked down. "Have you been seeing anyone?"

I laughed. "That's a good one," I said quietly.

She smiled a bit. "I didn't imagine you'd be celibate."

I didn't particularly want to touch that but it wasn't like I had a choice. "I never said I was."

Her face looked pained as what I said washed over her. "Oh…"

I gestured with the bottle. "Didn't mean a damn thing," I muttered.

She nodded. "Did it last night?" She asked quietly.

Jesus. How did we get to this point? "Why do you keep asking me questions you already know the answer to?"

"Sometimes I need to hear it." She sounded so unsure.

"You know I love you, Rachel. I always have. Even before…" I faltered. "Even in high school. Nothing is ever gonna change that."

"Even after Eva…"

I closed my eyes. "Eva made everything real. Even after she…" I stopped. I wasn't going to cry. "Her dying didn't change that… maybe made me hate myself a little bit moer. Or a whole lot honestly, but… nothing could ever stop how I feel about you."

"But you left…" She was crying.

"Because I was killing you by being there. You couldn't look at me. I had to leave. I loved you enough to leave. Can't you see that?" I wanted to throw the goddamn bottle across the room. I took a drink instead.

She cried softly for a few minutes. I wanted to hold her, but I wasn't sure I was supposed to. I stayed where I was.

"Hope was easy," she finally said. "When I was with her, I could pretend. I could pretend like it never happened."

I winced. "Glad you found your escape…"

She winced back. "You found yours too, Quinn. You just have to get all the way to the bottom of that bottle to get it."

I looked at the bottle and took another drink before I laughed. "Berry, my escape is at the bottom of the third or fourth bottle. Not the first."

She stood up and made her way over to me. She put her hand on the bottle and took it from me. "Leave it. Just tonight. Can you stop just for tonight?"

I wanted to say yes. I swear I did. But… I couldn't. I needed it. More than I needed her to forgive me. More than I needed to forgive myself. I put my hand over hers and took it back from her. "You're asking too much of me there."

She shook her head sadly. "I think I'll sleep in my bed tonight," she said, moving away from me. "Good night, Quinn."

I didn't respond until after she left. "Night, baby," I whispered when I knew she was out of earshot.

I don't remember anything after that.

* * *

_It started raining harder once we left the house. _

_"Ready to see your mommy, baby girl?" I cooed to the back seat. _

_Eva had taken a nap before we left. Rachel had installed one of those mirrors so I could see her while I was driving. I never let her drive with Eva in the car because Rachel could not drive. I don't mean she drove a little bad. She could not drive. At all. It was terrifying to be in the car with her. _

_She obviously didn't answer me, because she was nine months old. But still, she sort of smiled at me. She was probably super ready for her mommy. I mean I bathed her, and fed her, and cuddled with her. And it was true that I was the one who could get her to stop crying. And could make her do that little giggly thing that was more adorable than a roomful of puppies, but… Rachel gave birth to her. She just had this gift. Like if Eva was crying, Rach knew it even before she heard it. It blew me away. I could sleep through a tsunami. Anyone who argued that nature was stronger than nurture had not met our daughter. She was genetically mine. She was biologically Rachel's._

_I had both of my eyes on the road that night. I drove like a grandmother with her in the car. I obeyed every traffic law ever invented. I used my blinkers, kept both hands on the wheel… I was a model driver._

_But, you know… you can't control everything. Or everyone. And no matter how safe I was, or tried to be, I couldn't have stopped that guy from drinking that night. God knows I would've if I could've. I'd have ripped his head straight off his shoulders._

_Fate is stupid sometimes. I didn't get a chance to hurt him. _

_No one did. _

* * *

When I woke up the next morning, it was close to noon. Rachel was already dressed.

"If they're coming tonight, we're going to need more food." She said, putting on her sunglasses. "Do you want to go to the market with me?"

I shook my head and made myself a cup of coffee. There was some Bailey's in the cabinet and I poured a couple of shots in with it. "No. I think I'll stay here."

She looked sad. "Please don't do that, Quinn. Please." Her voice was small.

I took a drink of coffee. I was gonna need more than one cup today. "Look, I know that they need to see that you're okay. I get it. I just don't particularly relish the fact that I've got to be here at the same time." She looked worried. I held up my hand. "I am not going anywhere." I gestured at the bottle. "This helps me get through the day. I don't know what to tell you."

She rubbed the bridge of her nose like she was worried. "I want to… I'm not going to fight this battle with you right now, Quinn, but… I need you to understand something. I don't want to watch you do this to yourself. I knew it was bad but…" She moved over to me and took my hand. "I don't want you to keep hurting yourself."

I scoffed. "That's rich."

She took my coffee from me and sat it down on the counter. She took both my hands and brought them to her lips. I closed my eyes when she kissed them. When I opened them she was touching my cheek. "You're really beautiful," she whispered. She put her hand behind my neck and pulled my forehead to hers. "And sad."

I closed my eyes again and nodded. I didn't trust myself to talk.

She kissed my forehead. "I don't know why you're afraid to cry," she said. She ran her hand through my hair, before kissing my forehead again. "I'm sorry."

"For what," I mumbled out. I hadn't moved or opened my eyes.

She pulled back and looked at me. "Open you eyes." I did. "For being so lost in my own grief, I completely ignored yours."

I swallowed to keep from crying. I wanted to say I was sorry for causing it. For everything, but I knew if I spoke nothing but sobs would come out and I couldn't…

She finally let go. "I'll be back in a few hours." She said, kissing my cheek. "It'll be okay. I promise."

I nodded at her as she left. I didn't believe her. Nothing about them coming here could be okay.

* * *

By the time she'd got back, I'd had a shower and made my way through a bottle of whiskey. The liquor she'd found in the cabinet was gone, but there were boxes of it in the garage. I didn't know if she knew or not, but I wasn't going to offer up the information.

When she came back, she pushed her sunglasses on the top of her head and frowned as she sat the groceries down.

I expected her to say something about the drink in my hand, but she ignored it. "Want to help me put these up?" She smiled.

"Sure," I replied, glad we'd avoided it. "What time you think they'll get here?"

She shrugged. "They said tonight, so probably soon." She put her hand over mind. "You sure you're okay with this."

I nodded. "Whatever you need. I've already told you that."

She studied me for a minute. "I know what you said, but…" She didn't get to finish cause the doorbell rang. She cocked her eyebrow at me. "Guess they're early?" She tried to laugh.

Yay…

I followed Rachel into the living room as she opened the door. She was attacked by a giant bear hug from Puck, Kurt, and Brittany.

"Rachel!" All three of them screamed like she'd just risen from the dead.

I hung back. I was more than glad to see San with them. Blaine and Mercedes trailed in behind them and hugged Rachel. Sam patted me on the arm. I couldn't bother to respond because I was watching the new one.

"Rach," she said, pulling her into a hug. She moved to kiss her.

I took another goddamn drink.

"It's so beautiful here," Kurt started.

Were they about to make small talk?

"So… I'll just be outside," I said to the room before this got anymore awkward.

"Quinn, wait." Rachel said.

I turned around and grabbed the bottle off the coffee table. "No. You guys talk. I'm feeling out of place at the moment." I walked out and shut the door behind me.

Truth was I didn't want to sit in there and listen to them tell her what a mistake she was making. I didn't know if she would believe it. If she went back with them… that was it… I couldn't do this anymore. Being near her and then having her taken away… I wouldn't survive it. And I didn't want to.

I heard the door slide behind me after a few minutes but I didn't bother turning around. "Santana."

She had a glass in her hand. "Can I have some?"

I nodded and poured her a drink. "How was the flight?"

She groaned. "Long." She took a drink.

"Why aren't you in there making with the big intervention with the others?" I asked her.

"Well," she sighed. "Number one – it's really fucking pointless cause she ain't coming back. And number two – I figured someone else is in need of an intervention right now."

I scoffed. "That right?"

"Yep." She was staring out at the water. "This sure the shit beats the hell out of Lima."

I nodded. "No shit."

She took a deep breath. "So… you been on this bender for over a year now?"

I took a drink. "What's it fucking to you?"

She turned and looked at me. "Well you're my friend, asshole. And based on the empty bottles in that kitchen you're drinking enough for seven goddamn people."

"How do you know that's all mine?"

She rolled her eyes. "Are you serious? The most Rachel drinks – a glass of wine. Or some fruity shit that tastes like candy. No way she's drinking that shit in there."

I shrugged. "I've got a high metabolism."

"I don't care how high your fucking metabolism is. There's no way in hell you aren't killing your liver with this shit, Quinn. The damn circles under your eyes give you away." She took another drink and sat her glass down. "Have you been doing this shit for a year, Q? Are you trying to kill yourself?"

I sat still. "I was at first," I finally said.

She nodded. "And now?"

"I can't really stop…"

"Right." She took the bottle from me. "Have you tried?" She sounded sad.

"Yeah," I told her. "A couple of times. I can't take it."

She touched my shoulder. "It's hard. But it's gonna kill you if you don't stop. You know that, don't you?"

I looked away. "So the fuck what?"

She sneered. "You wanna do that to Rachel?" She shook her head. "Cause that'll be it for her. She won't survive your death too. You'll just be giving her permission to die. And then something finally will be your fault."

"She's moved on," I said quietly.

"Right," she mocked. "And that's why she ran off with you the other day. Why do you pretend to be fucking stupid? That shit gets so old."

I gestured at the house with my hand. "They fucking hate me."

"Well, they're being idiots. They needed someone to blame, and lookie here – you gave them that didn't you? They were championing you until you fucked that girl, you dumbass. And then you left like a coward. You wanted to play the bad guy, cause that's what everyone expects from Quinn. But you look like a goddamn idiot. Because you're playing the victim instead."

Fuck her. I grabbed the bottle and swallowed the remnants. "No one fucking asked you, Santana."

"I don't give a damn. You think you two are the only ones that suffered when she died? Get over yourself for two goddamn seconds. You self-centered, fucking…" she took a breath. "We all loved her. All of us. We were all broken. Maybe she wasn't my daughter," she took a deep breath. "… so the hell what? I loved her."

I shook my head. "You don't understand…"

She took the bottle from me and threw it against the patio. It shattered. "Fuck you!" she screamed. She stood up. "Fuck you." She muttered again. She was shaking.

Before I could get up, everyone ran out of the house.

"What's going on?" Rachel asked, looking at me.

"San, what is it?" Britt asked.

Santana was still shaking but managed to compose herself. I stayed where I was, staring at her.

"I…" she faltered and looked at me. "Nothing," she finally said.

Rachel put her hands on her hips. "Quinn?"

"Nothing," I mumbled back.

Hope was staring daggers at me. Fuck her.

"What are you looking at?" I asked her.

"A drunk," she mumbled.

I jumped up and lunged at her. Rachel caught me around the waist. "Stop it," she hissed. She threw me in the chair. "Stay put," she turned to Santana. "Both of you."

S sulked but sat back down.

Rachel motioned to Britt and the others. "Give me five minutes."

Kurt and Hope started to protest, but Sam and Blaine ushered them back inside.

Rachel sat down on the table across from us. "What was that about?" She asked when they went inside.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Nothing. I just forgot how much I missed Quinn is all."

She ignored her and turned to me. "Want to know the only person who never stopped talking about you? Who kept looking for you?"

I didn't answer.

"Shut up, Rachel." Santana said.

"All that money you had," Rachel sighed. "Where did you think that came from? You weren't working. And yet you still had money. Did you ever wonder about your magical debit card?"

"Shut up, Rachel," San warned again.

She continued to ignore her and touched my hand. "I'm staying here with you, Quinn…"

"Told ya so," San muttered beside us.

I looked away.

Rachel cut her eyes at her. "But… I'm not the only person that cares about you." She patted Santana's knee. "We all need someone on our side," she said, winking at her. She stood up. "I've got to go convince them that I'm not crazy," she half-smiled at us. "A lot harder than it sounds," she said thoughtfully before going back inside.

Neither of us said anything when she went back in. I finally got up and began picking up the glass that was shattered everywhere.

"What are you doing?" Santana asked.

"I sorta walk out here barefoot, jackass," I told her, smacking her on the arm.

She rolled her eyes and bent down to help me. "You're the jackass."

I smiled. "About what she said… the money… you didn't have to…"

She held up her hand. "Save it. I know about you and pride. I'm gonna beat her ass for telling you that. But…" She chucked a piece of the bottle in the garbage behind my head. "We also have more money than God." She chucked another piece. "So let's just not talk about that. Deal?"

I threw a piece over my head without looking. "Deal," I said.

We finished quickly.

"Ready to face the wolves?" She asked me.

"Fuck no," I muttered.

She stood and lent me a hand. "Tough shit."

When we got inside, everyone was in the living room. We both could tell we'd walked into a tense moment. Kurt was crying quietly and both Sam and Noah were pacing. Hope was sitting across the room on the edge of a chair. Everyone stopped talking when we walked in.

Santana sat down on the couch beside Mercedes and patted her knee. I stayed where I was.

Kurt watched me for a moment before continuing. "Okay, we get that Quinn didn't force you to come here, Rachel but…" he looked at me. "Do you think this is what you need?" He hesitated. "What Quinn needs?"

Puck nodded. "I know she screwed up…"

I raised my hand. "Uh, standing right here, jackass."

He ignored me. "… but it is fair to do this to her, Rachel?"

Rachel sighed. "What exactly do you think I'm doing, Noah?"

Brittany frowned sadly. "Rachel, you know that you and Quinn can't stay here pretending like nothing happened. That Finn isn't dead. That Eva didn't die."

Rachel stood up. "No one here is pretending anything!" She yelled. "I'm sick of all if it. The pitiful looks. The frowns. The freaking cold weather. I hate it there."

Hope stood up and walked over to her. "Then we'll come here." She looked at Kurt for conformation. "If that's what you need…"

I stepped closer to them. "Uh no…"

Hope moved around Rachel. "I know you're hurting, Quinn. I get you suffered too. But what you did was inexcusable. You hurt her. No one is stupid enough to think you won't do it again." She stepped into my personal space then.

Big mistake.

I stuck my finger in her chest. "Listen here, I don't know who you think you're messing with but you're about to find out."

She took my hand away from her chest. "Look at me shaking at the drunk who's threatening me."

I twisted the hand that was holding mine and then punched her with my other fist. She fell backwards. "You should be," I called down to her.

"Quinn!" Brittany screamed and ran over to her. "What's wrong with you?"

Rachel was watching with her mouth open. She hadn't moved. Everyone else jumped up. When Hope got up she was shaking and lunged at me. Puck grabbed her and threw her on the couch before I could hit her again.

"Don't move," San hissed at her.

Rachel finally moved and walked over and took my hand. She guided me to the other side of the room and moved to stand in front of me.

"Okay, well now that everyone has seen that I'm here of my own freewill, you can go. First thing in the morning." She looked pointedly at Hope. "All of you."

Hope went to get up and I tried to move around Rachel. She held me back without even turning around. "I did not invite you here to attack Quinn," she said, looking around the room. "Or to be talked into returning. I wanted to show you that I was okay."

"But you aren't okay," Blaine said.

Rachel sighed. "And I probably never will be. But I am trying here." She turned around and looked at me. "And Quinn needs me…"

I wasn't sure what she meant, but I kept quiet.

She started shaking her head. "Look, I'm not doing this anymore. I'm tired. I want to go to bed," She said to the room. "There are two bedrooms upstairs and an extra bedroom downstairs." She pointed at the couches. "And two couches. So figure out where you're going to sleep. I had them bring a rental car here this afternoon. So we'll drive you to the airport tomorrow." She looked around the room. "I wish this would've gone better, but I didn't ask you here to fight." She shook her head and walked out.

I didn't miss the fact that she said we had three bedrooms open. That meant I was supposed to sleep with her, right? They were all staring at me – expecting me to say something, I guessed. Except San, who was smiling like the Cheshire Cat.

I didn't give them a chance to talk. I grabbed one of the other bottles I'd been drinking and followed her. She was in the bedroom I'd been sleeping in, putting her clothes in the drawer. She turned around when I came in and noticed the bottle in my hand. She sighed and turned back around, finishing what she was doing.

I sat down on the bed and grabbed a glass and poured myself a drink.

When she was finished she came and stood in front of me. "You're an alcoholic."

"No shit," I muttered.

"I want you to stop," she said firmly.

"Not that easy."

"Do you want to stay here with me?" She asked, her hands on her hips.

I closed my eyes. I debated on whether I should finish the drink but… I had to. "Is that an ultimatum?"

She nodded.

"Yes," I finally whispered.

"Then you've got to try." She took the bottle from me. "No more tonight."

I wasn't drunk. I'd had a lot to drink today, but nowhere near as much as I wanted. "I don't know if I can do this."

She sat down beside me and put her hand on my knee. "I don't know if I can get up every morning. I don't know how to take a damn breath. It's hard."

My face must have registered the shock of what she said.

"Hard," she repeated. She shook her head. "But I do it. So, you get to do it too. I've lost everything else in this world and I'm not about to lose you too. " She rubbed my knee. "But I can't do it by myself. I need you to help me. I want to help you." She took the glass out of my hand and turned my face toward hers. "I love you," she whispered.

I closed my eyes. "I just needed you to say it." I started crying.

She pulled me to her and laid my head against her chest. "I know, baby," she said rubbing my head. She lay back on the bed and took me with her.

I hated crying. Hated it. And I was fucking sobbing. But she was holding me. And something inside me broke. "I'm so sorry," I choked out. "I'm so sorry." I was blubbering. "I'm so sorry." I couldn't breathe. "I loved her so much. I loved her. I loved her…"

She held me tighter against her. "I know." She was rocking me like a baby. "I know."

"It just hurts," I cried. "It feels like I'm dying every day." I was choking. "I wanted to die. I killed her."

She kissed my head. "No you didn't, Quinn. It was an accident. A stupid accident."

"It hurts." I was crying so hard I almost didn't understand myself.

But she understood me. She nodded against the top of my head. She was holding me as tight as she ever had. "I know it does. Believe me, I know. But, I'm not leaving you this time. I promise. No matter what. Okay?" She whispered. "You're stuck with me. Okay?"

I nodded against her. "Promise?" I whispered back.

"Promise."


	4. Chapter 4

**So, I've started to combine a few chapters to make them longer. That means it'll be a bit shorter chapter-wise. Thanks for all the reviews. I know it's heavy but I think it's worth it.**

* * *

Chapter 4

_They said Rachel screamed when they told her._

_I don't know who found us. I just don't remember. I tried. But there's just… there's nothing there. Not after those lights. I can still see the lights. The lights are always there._

_She waited for us at the airport. I couldn't imagine that. Just sitting there. Realizing finally that we weren't coming. Did she think something happened? That I'd forgotten? That I'd run away?_

_She never told me. Who came and got her that night. Who told her. Who held her when she cried._

_Of course… of course, I'd never asked._

* * *

When I woke up, she wasn't there.

And I was a big girl. I'd spent the last year sleeping by myself (well most nights. The nights I didn't, I tended not to remember anyway). But… there was that familiar feeling of panic setting in when I noticed she was gone.

I rose and took a deep breath in order to control my breathing. I concentrated on trying to feel her. It was weird but I could always feel her.

Now I was faced with a decision. If she wasn't in bed that meant she was out there. With them. I mean she'd basically just announced to the room she was tired at like six o'clock in the afternoon. So obviously she wasn't sleeping. So did I go out there? Did I stay in here? I rolled over and looked at the clock. It was ten. I'd slept for four hours.

I stood up and looked in the mirror. Oh hell… I looked liked shit. I went in the bathroom and washed my face and brushed my teeth. I pulled my hair back in a ponytail and threw on a pair of shorts and t-shirt. And then I just stared at myself. I wanted to go out there. See what she was doing. But I didn't. Because it some ways I didn't want to know.

After about five minutes of arguing with my reflection, I figured screw it, and decided to go find her.

I could hear voices in the living room. But only two. I started to turn around when I realized who the other one was.

"Am I interrupting?" I announced when I walked in.

Rachel was sitting in a chair on one side of the room, her legs underneath her. Hope was sitting on the couch.

Rachel shook her head at me. "Sleep well?"

Hope wouldn't look at me. I surveyed the room. Trying to figure out where to sit. "Apparently."

Rachel nodded. I wasn't sure what she was agreeing with.

I finally decided to just sit in the chair on the opposite side of the couch. This was awkward. But no way I was leaving Hope in here with her now. I avoided eye contact with Hope because I still wanted to clock her. "So what are you doing?" I asked Rachel.

"We were just talking," she smiled sadly.

Hope huffed but didn't speak.

I didn't know if I should be in here or not. Maybe I was interrupting. Maybe Rach needed this. Me throttling this interloper would probably make things more complicated.

"Did you know about us?" So she could speak.

"Excuse me?"

She turned and looked at me pointedly. "Did you know about us?" She gestured to Rachel. "Rachel and me? Did you know we were together?"

"Rachel told me. I saw you with her. The other day." I was watching Rachel's face as I talked. She was looking away.

"No," Hope said, shaking her head. "Before. Did you know about us before?"

"No." It wasn't easy to hide my shame. "I didn't."

She nodded. "No. You didn't. You didn't know anything at all about Rachel. Because you hadn't bothered to check on her. Not once."

"Hope don't…" Rach started.

I held up my hand to stop her and turned to the girl. "I didn't. You're right. You also apparently like to state the obvious; so do you have a point you're trying to make or are you just talking?"

"Oh, I've got a point. You said that I didn't know you. Fair. I don't. Because you left. Like a coward. You left her broken, nursing whatever wound it was you thought needed nursing. Because you run. Isn't that right?"

"Hope…" Rachel started again.

I fought the urge to stand up. "No, let her talk," I said to her. I turned to Hope. "I know what I did. I don't need anyone drawing me a map. But you have no idea what I've…"

"Right," she said, interrupting me. "No idea what you've been through. Losing a child? Is that it? Because Rachel didn't suffer the same fate. Just you. It was all about you."

Rachel sighed and stood up. "Okay, that's enough."

"Is it Rachel?" She asked, turning to her. "Is that it? I just get tossed aside when she swoops back in," she looked briefly at me before turning back to her. "I don't understand. We were good…" Her voice choked. I started to feel like I was in the wrong place. I thought about getting up and just leaving them to hash this shit out on their own and then I heard "I love you."

And yep, never mind.

"So do I," I stated.

Rachel sighed. "I don't know what to say," she finally answered. She got up and sat down next to her. I found myself gripping the armrests. "I wouldn't have survived without you," she told her.

I looked away.

"Do you love me?" Hope asked her.

I could feel Rachel staring at me. No way I was turning around. I really should have just got up and left, but it was like some damn horror movie and I couldn't stop.

"It's not that simple," Rach whispered.

"It used to be." She scoffed. "Of course, there was no Quinn then. Is that it? Quinn comes back and what… you don't love me anymore?"

"No. That's not it." Rachel finally answered.

I stood up. "So, I'm just gonna go for a walk." I did not want to hear any more of this.

Rachel grabbed my arm. "Wait," she said, pulling me back. "Sit down, please."

I sat in the chair she'd just occupied and crossed my arms.

"I love Quinn more." She finally said. "I've never felt the same way about anyone. I've never even felt close…" She sighed and I tried not to smile. "I do love you," she whispered to her. I didn't want to wince but I'm sure I did, because she shot me a look. "But… it's not the same."

"Because I'm safe. Because I won't run. Because I put you first," Hope said. "Because I'm not dangerous." She cut her eyes at me before she jumped up.

I copied suit. "Wanna find out how dangerous?" I asked her.

"Yes," She said. "I do." She stalked over to me.

Rachel stood up between us. "Sit down!" She yelled at me. She turned to Hope. Her voice was sadder. "That's not why I love her. And that's not who she is."

Hope rolled her eyes. "You're perfect together. You're both self-centered. Self-destructive." She pushed past her. "Maybe you'll both get what you want and you'll finally kill each other." She huffed, walking out.

When she was gone, I touched her shoulder. "Rachel…"

"Don't," she muttered, shrugging me off. She walked onto the patio.

I didn't follow her. I just opened a bottle.

* * *

_I moved through the days after the accident in a fog. _

_How are you supposed to comfort someone when you can't deal with your own grief? It wasn't a question I asked myself at the time, but it was the excuse I used later. _

_We flew to Lima for the funeral at it was… well it was awful. I'd declined the pain medicine (my leg was broken), and the anxiety medicine (and so was everything else). _

_But Rachel hadn't. She was a zombie. I didn't know what they had given her. I hadn't asked. _

_We stood outside in the rain. And people said things. There were speeches about life being cut too short. The loss of a child. _

_There was no music._

_I cried that day. But Rachel didn't. _

_Not that day. That day she stood there with her arms around her body. She wouldn't let anyone hold an umbrella for her. And she refused to hold one herself. She just stood there, shivering in the rain. Everyone watching her. Everyone watching me. I could feel their eyes. I cowered under their stare, but she never even pretended to acknowledge them. _

_I stood beside her. Noah had to help me stand. My mother was holding my arm in a grip so tight I was certain she'd bruised me. _

_When I looked at Rachel… said her name… she'd turned towards me, but… she stared though me like I was invisible. I watched the confusion wash over her face as she turned back towards the grave. _

_"It's the medicine," someone whispered in my ear._

_I wished it was that simple. _

_When her father asked her if she needed something, she blinked at the sound but seemed not to know where it came from. _

_There was one point when I think she almost fell. I recall Finn and Santana lunging for her. When I turned around, she'd already jerked away from them. _

_Her voice cut through the air only once. "I'd like to wake up now," she whispered._

_Everyone stopped, but she wasn't speaking to any of us._

_It was easier to close my eyes._

_When it was over, she moved by me quickly. I called her name but she didn't stop. I cursed the stupid crutches and the tears that were streaming down my face. If I could just get to her..._

_She was moving aimlessly but quickly away from us. I had to be content with Kurt and Blaine following her. Finn was always a few feet away… waiting to catch her. Doing my job._

_I heard my mother's soft voice brush against my ear. "We all deal differently, sweetheart."_

_All I could do was nod. I was drowning in the same grief. _

_In the same guilt._

_I don't know how she got back to her father's house. I rode in the back of one of the limos with my face pressed against my mother's lap. Her hands were soft in my hair and all I wanted to do was crawl into her so she could make the pain go away. She bent over and whispered against my head. "My baby…" _

_It made me cry harder._

_When we got back to her fathers' house, Rachel wouldn't come inside. Everyone begged her. Her dads. My mom. _

_Brittany cried on the front porch. _

_ Kurt cried in bathroom. _

_I stood about ten feet away from her. She was staring at nothing. Her eyes were dry. But they seemed to be made of glass._

_"Please come inside," I finally tried. My voice hurt._

_"I'd like to wake up now," she said again. She still wasn't talking to me._

_That was the first night I drank an entire bottle of scotch. Eva had a bedroom at both of her grandparents' house. I sat in the one at the Berry's staring at the mobile above her bed and didn't stop until I passed out._

_The last thing I remember is my mother crying softly somewhere beside me._

_When I woke up the next morning and looked outside, I saw Rachel's fathers standing on the porch. They still had their suits on._

_I followed their gaze and saw her. _

_She was sitting on the grass in the same place I'd left her yesterday._

* * *

I drank the whole bottle before she came back inside.

She stood across the room and stared at me. Her arms were wrapped around her body. I shuddered at the memory it brought back.

"Why?" She finally asked.

"Why what?" I was drunk. I hadn't eaten anything and I'd downed the bottle pretty fast.

She didn't move from where she was standing. "Why do you do this? It doesn't… after everything that happened? How can you even think about…"

I shook my head. "Welcome to irony," I muttered.

"Why can't you try to stop? Why can't you try to live? If I'm willing to try, why can't you?" She rubbed her temples. "Do you even want to quit?"

I went to stand up and the room started spinning. I fell back in the chair. "I don't need the lecture, Rachel." I crossed my arms. "It's not like I'm shooting up heroin."

"Only you would qualify an addiction," she murmured. "I don't want to lose you, Quinn."

"I'm not going anywhere, Rachel."

"You've mastered the art of avoidance." She moved and sat down on the couch. "Are we self-destructive?"

"Why are you listening to her? She doesn't know me." I groaned.

She nodded. "No, she doesn't; you're right. But she knows me." I shuddered at her words. "She does. Sorry if you don't want to hear that."

"Don't we have a right?" I asked her. "Don't I? If I can make it stop hurting, don't I have a right to do that? Or am I supposed to just feel this way the rest of my life?"

She leaned back against the couch and propped her feet up. She rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands. "You want to know what my favorite memory of her is?"

"No." I didn't want to talk about her. Not tonight.

"I don't care. I'm going to tell you anyway."

"Whatever," I mumbled.

"One day I just had to go for a run. It was one of those mornings where I just had to… I don't know, get out. It wasn't long after she was born. But I felt like I was doing everything. The feeding. The changing." I started to speak but she stopped me. "Don't. I cherish every single one of those moments now." She closed her eyes for a moment. "But at the time, I just needed to get out. Get back to normal. And she'd been crying all night. Do you remember?"

I shook my head.

"I just wanted some peace. I mean I wasn't even gone thirty minutes. I felt so bad for leaving her. For leaving you. But when I got back, she wasn't crying. It was weird because the room was so quiet. And you were lying there with her. On the floor – like you'd both just passed out or something. It was the sweetest thing I'd ever seen. She was sleeping on your chest." She smiled sadly.

I did remember. I had an awful crick in my neck when I'd woken up.

I nodded at her. "You were ready to strangle me that day."

She nodded back. "You said you didn't even hear her crying that night. Your selective hearing is impressive."

I laughed a bit. "Sometimes."

"I know you thought I blamed you." She said, looking at me. "And maybe I did. But it wasn't why I was so angry. So cold…"

I didn't expect that. "Why then?"

"Because you had her for a whole week more than me," she said so quietly I had to strain to hear her. "Who'd have thought one week would be that big of a deal?"

Of course. I'd never even realized that. "I didn't even… I should've thought about…"

"I just thought if I wished hard enough, I'd wake up."

"Rachel…"

She held up her hand to stop me. "It's over. We can't change what happened. No matter how much we want to." She stood up. "We're still alive." She looked at the bottle. "And moderately healthy," she sighed. "But, I won't tolerate a drunk, Quinn. And you're a drunk. A sad, heartbroken drunk. But a drunk just the same. I want you to be better. I want to get better. I want to be happy again. I don't want to spend the rest of my life waiting to die. And I don't want to spend the rest of it wondering when you will. So it ends. You stop drinking. Find a way to give it up. Or leave. I need to get better. And I'm grateful that you've gotten me this far. I really am," she sat down on the arm of my chair and put her arm around me. "But, now I want to be better. And I can't get there watching you do this to yourself."

I put my head against her chest and wrapped my arms around her waist. I loved how my head fit so perfectly against her. "I don't think I can just stop, Rachel. I've tried to stop," I was whispering. "It wasn't pretty."

"I can deal with the non-pretty. I can deal with everything bad that comes with it. But, I won't deal with the apathy anymore."

"I'm just so afraid you'll leave…"

"Why?" She pulled me to her. "Can't you see how much I don't want to leave you?"

"Because it's bad. It will be awful. I don't know if I want you to see me like that."

She pulled back and looked at me. "Quinn, I've seen you break. I've seen you as HBIC. I've put up with names, insults, slushies - all from you. Hell, I've even seen you screwing some college student in. My. Bed…" She took a deep breath. "So I think I can deal with this."

I nodded. "I'm sorry for what I did. With those girls. I should've…"

She pulled further back. "Those girls?" She stood up, hands on her hips. "I freaking knew it."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Rach… I'm sorry… I…" apparently keep putting my giant foot in my giant mouth.

She looked like she might execute a storm out but then she just sighed and sat back on the armrest. She put her head in her hands. "You're a freaking idiot," she mumbled into her hands. "Ugh. I knew there were other girls. I wasn't stupid. I was just playing pretend. Ignoring them made it seem like a one time mistake."

I shrugged. "I guess we've both got to stop ignoring our problems?"

She seemed to be thinking. "Yeah. Your problem is drinking and my problem is all the girls you've slept with." She scrunched up her face. "Holy crap!" She jumped up. "That's your problem too. How is that my problem?" She cut her eyes at me, but I caught the edge of a smile as well. "Okay, you deal with the drinking and I'll deal with the fact that you're a dumbass. Is that fair?"

I pulled her into my lap and kissed her. She giggled softly and wrapped her arms around my neck. "Guess it's fair…" I said.

She pulled away and smacked me on the arm. "You don't sound convinced."

"Well I mean now I've got to stop drinking while you ride me about that." No way I was saying "those girls" or anything else that could get me in trouble.

She hopped up, smirking. "Guess you're screwed, Fabray." She said, as she ran into our bedroom.

I moved to follow her and she stuck her head back through the door. "And I definitely don't mean literally," she smiled, running back inside.

I smiled to myself. I was screwed. No doubt about that. This was gonna be hard. I'd stopped drinking before. Or at least tried. I knew the drill. But… Maybe we had a chance. Maybe we could get through this.

I knew there was another bottle in the kitchen. I'd brought several in while Rach was in town today. And I looked that way for a few minutes. I mean I just stood there staring. Every cell in my body told me to get that drink. Just the last one. The one that helps me go to sleep.

And then I looked the opposite direction. At the bedroom. Where I knew she was. I could hear her washing her face. Brushing her teeth.

I kept looking back and forth because I had to make a decision. My body wanted to go into the kitchen. It was fighting with me just to go. But my heart, it's a traitor that's for sure.

When I got in the room, she was sitting up in bed waiting for me. "Wasn't sure you were coming?" She smiled softly.

I raised my eyebrow at her. "Is that an invitation?"

She rolled her eyes. "To bed. I wasn't sure you were coming to _bed_."

I shrugged. "I'm here, aren't I?"

She patted the bed next to her. "Yeah. You are."

I moved over and sat down.

"Will you hold me?" She asked me. "Just hold me? Like you used to?"

"Of course."

"Great!" She said, clapping her hands. "Now, go brush your teeth. Beause there is no way you are getting in my bed smelling like a big bottle of whiskey."

I got up. "It was rum," I called behind me.

"Don't care," she called back.

Once I finished, I sauntered back in the room. "All better?" I asked her.

She nodded, excited like a little kid and scooted over so I could get into bed with her. I pulled her to me once I lay down and she snuggled into my side and wrapped her leg around me before putting her head on my chest. I felt her fingers drawing patterns on my other side. She nuzzled her head into my neck. "My god," she whispered into my ear sleepily.

"What?" I whispered back, hugging her to me.

I could feel her burying her face in my neck. "It's nothing. You just make me feel… safe. That was what was missing. When I was cold... No one else can do that but you."

Since she and I had been apart, I'd been broken. I waited till her breathing evened and I knew she was asleep before I answered her. "You make me feel whole. No one else could do _that_ but you."

* * *

_"Hey," I heard. "You gonna get up? It's almost two."_

_I turned over in the bed. "No." I pulled the pillow over my head._

_San sat down on the edge and put her hand on my shoulder. "You need to get up."_

_"Please leave me alone," I muttered._

_She moved off the bed and opened the curtains. "Get up, Fabray."_

_I glanced up and the sunshine was blinding. "Ugh," I moaned, pulling the pillow back over my head. "Fuck you, Lopez."_

_She sat back down. "Thanks for the invitation and all, but I think that lines long enough." She sighed. "Rachel isn't blind, Quinn. Neither are the rest of them. You guys choose to buy this giant house and live like hippies on a commune. And it's cool and all, but… if anyone else was as astute as I was, they'd have already caught you." She tried to pull the pillow away from my head, but I held on tighter. "You keep this up and there is no going back."_

_I opened my eyes and looked at her. "Rachel hates me."_

_She shook her head. "No. She's hurting. And you're destructing. What the hell is this getting you? Except a damn disease probably. I can't keep pretending not to see you leaving here all hours of the night." She grabbed the collar of my t-shirt. "There's lipstick on your shirt. Whore Red. Rachel would rather sell her soul to reality television than wear that cheap shit." She spat out. I heard her take a breath and try to calm herself. "Look Q, sooner or later, they're gonna figure it out. I can't fucking help you if that happens."_

_"No one asked you to," I said, turning away from her. I ripped the shirt off and threw it on the floor, just the same._

_She sighed again and bent over to pick it up. I heard her stop when she opened the door. "You're fucking up everything in your life, dumbass." She shut the door. "Everything," she muttered on the other side._

_I let her leave. I didn't tell her she was right._

_I didn't care._

* * *

When I woke up Rachel wasn't in bed again. And it was scary again because… well, because it was always scary. When you weren't sure if you had someone, when you were terrified they were going to leave… you began to fear their absence.

Of course Rachel had always gotten up before me. Even before Eva. Especially after. I shook the familiar fear away and made my way to the bathroom.

While I was getting ready I could smell breakfast. It was weird. We had pretty much existed on a steady diet of coffee (her) and alcohol (me) since we got here. I couldn't believe she was cooking.

Then I heard voices. I forgot they were here.

Everyone was in the kitchen when I went in there. Everyone except one.

I raised my eyebrow at Rachel.

"Morning," she smiled at me.

They were all sitting around the table. Eating pancakes, omelets, bacon. It was strange. Like before…

I looked around again.

"I took her to the airport this morning," Santana said, reading my mind.

"You're staying?" I asked her.

Brittany smiled. "For a few days." She looked to Rachel for conformation before turning back to me. "If that's okay with you, Q?"

I shrugged. If she wanted them to stay… well, at least Hope was gone. That was enough.

I sat down at the table and Kurt put a plate in front of me. "You still like western omelets, don't you?"

I nodded, warily. "Is it poisoned?"

"Quinn!" Rachel squealed.

What? It was a valid question.

He laughed. I guess that was a good thing. I didn't know anymore. I felt like I was in _The Twilight Zone_. "No. Not poisoned. But it is extra fluffy."

"Okay," I said tentatively. I took a bite and was at least relieved that it didn't taste poisoned.

Mercedes handed me a cup of coffee. "Black," she smiled.

I took it from her and smelled it.

"I didn't poison you either, girl," she laughed.

"Can't be too careful…" I muttered taking a drink.

Puckerman was studying me. Hard. He looked around the room before clearing his throat. "Q, uh…" He took a deep breath. This should be rich. "We wanted to say sorry for the way we've been… uh acting, and stuff. We jumped to some pretty ridiculous conclusions the last few days."

"The last year," Blaine added.

Sam shrugged at me.

"It's fine," I muttered. It was too early for this shit.

Britt shook her head. "It's not."

"Well," I sighed. "I was an asshole. I get your loyalties. I'm glad you've got them."

"Yeah," Mercedes started. "But we should've been more understanding. We know you loved Eva and that…"

I held up my hand. "Look, I'm going be honest. You guys make Rachel happy, so I'm all for you staying. I don't have a problem with any of you." I looked to the door. "Well, except the one that left. But… I'm not at that point yet. Okay? I can't talk about her."

"Quinn," Rachel started.

"No, Rachel… I'm serious about this. I screwed up. Royally. I get it. I know it. But I'm not ready to pour my heart out." I took a drink of coffee. I don't know how the hell anyone thought I could stop drinking while they were here.

Britt looked around and smiled sadly at Rachel before turning to me. "We're worried about you, Quinn."

"I'm gonna have to call bullshit on that one…" she started to speak, but I held up my hand. "Doesn't matter. I'm not discussing it. End of story."

Everyone sort of stood around staring at me. At one point, that would have been enough to break me. Now… I couldn't even bother to care.

Sam clapped his hands, obviously freaked at the awkwardness. "So what is there to do on this island?"

Rachel watched me carefully before addressing him. "There's a pool…" she said. She looked thoughtful. "And a market. The market's awesome. Shopping is fun. There's a place where I got this amazing shampoo. My hair feels like silk," she moved closer to Brittany. "Touch it."

Nothing like random Rachel.

And Britt just rubbed it like that was normal. Cooing about Rachel's angel hair and… blah blah blah. I stopped listening.

"We don't have bathing suits," Mercedes cried. "We need suits. " She eyeballed Sam. "Plus your ass needs sunscreen, Mr. Pasty."

He frowned.

Blaine patted her shoulder. "We can go to town and get that stuff."

Santana shook her head. "You guys go. Just get me a suit or whatever. Me and Q are gonna stay here and have a heart to heart."

Great. I smiled at Rachel so she wouldn't be worried.

I shook my head at Santana. "Be careful what you wish for there. Rachel will bring you back a pastel bathing suit with bows on it."

She whirled around and gave Rach a look. "Berry, you wouldn't…"

She laughed. "No. I wouldn't. I bought Quinn a…"

"…purple bathing suit with bows on it," I finished for her.

She rolled her eyes. "And a black one."

I shook my head at Santana. "That was later. After I threw…"

"… a fit like a child," Rachel finished.

They laughed.

"We won't get you a pastel bathing suit," B said. "No worries."

San looked wary. Smart really. "You promise?"

B nodded. "No girlie suit. We got it. Don't be silly." She turned to Puck. "You'll look good in pink."

He started shaking his head. "No way. I'm coming." He said, grabbing the keys. "And I'm driving."

Rachel smirked, grabbing her sunglasses. "Let's go," She told them. They followed her out. She stopped and turned around. She made her way back in the kitchen when everyone was gone but Santana and me. "Are you going to be okay?"

I didn't answer her at first. I looked around the kitchen. She'd hidden the alcohol. Or thrown it away. I wasn't sure. Fuck no, I wasn't gonna be okay. "I'll be fine," I tried to smile.

S was watching us. She grinned at Rachel. "No worries. I won't let her get in trouble."

She looked like she didn't really trust her, but she smiled anyway. "Okay…" She finally muttered. The others were calling her.

"Go, seriously. San's right. No worries."

She walked over and kissed my cheek. "Love you," she whispered in my ear.

I winked at her.

She smacked my arm before walking out. "Stop doing that," she giggled, winking back.

God that made my knees weak.

Santana refreshed her coffee after they left. "Want some more?"

I watched them pull out of the driveway. When they were gone, I turned to her. "Where's the liquor?" I asked.

She poured me some coffee. "What?" She feigned innocent. She was terrible at it.

"The liquor," I stated again. "Where is it?"

She shrugged and sat down. "In your body?"

I didn't bite. "There was more." I told her, getting up. I started opening the cabinets. "What did she do with it?"

She sighed. "So… I took Hope to the airport this morning. That was fucking pleasant."

There was nothing. Fuck. "Glad she's gone," I said, turning around. "Now, where is it?"

"She cried all the way there. I never fucking liked her. So damn clingy." She muttered, taking a drink. "Always with the 'I love you, Rachie.' Who the hell calls her Rachie? That shit is so…"

I stalked over to her and slammed my hands down on the table. "Where's the fucking liquor, S?"

She jumped. "Jesus, freak… I don't fucking know. It was gone when I got back." She took another drink of coffee.

I stormed off and headed for the garage.

"Where are you going?" She called after me. "Fuck…"

I found the bottles in the boxes behind some cabinets. Rachel didn't know those were there. I opened one and took a drink. It burned like a sin.

She walked in behind me. "Goddamn it," she muttered, walking over to me. "Where'd you get it?"

"I can't do this," I mumbled. I sat down on the garage floor. "I want to. I do… but I can't." I was shaking. I took another drink.

"I know," she said quietly. "I think Rachel realizes you drink too much but I don't think she understands."

"What do you mean?"

"What happened the last time you tried to quit?"

I sighed. "I was in Vegas. About six months ago I guess. It was one of those weeks where I couldn't tell one day from the next. I met this girl in L.A, the last time I was there." I shook my head. "Anyway, she was messed up. You know?" She nodded. "And well, I was too. We partied for a few days. I don't even know how many… but one day I woke and I… I…" I faltered.

"You what?"

"I was in the bathroom. Passed out on the floor. I found her in the bedroom… she had a bruise on her cheek." I took a deep breath. "When I woke her up… she was terrified of me. Shaking. She ran past me and hid in the closet." I looked at her. "Said I'd hit her. Said I'd lost my shit…" I didn't want to tell her.

She must have been able to tell. "I get it…"

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. "I was so freaked out. I left. Got a room at some fleabag motel and I tried so hard to get clean." I made eye contact with her. "I mean I get it. I know what you guys think about me drinking, okay?"

She didn't answer.

"It isn't like I don't know what happened that night. But it was just so much easier than…" I shook my head. I couldn't go down that road again. "After I left that girl, I tried. I promise I did. But it hurt. I was okay for a few hours, but then… then the shakes set in. And I couldn't sleep. God knows I just wanted to sleep. But I was hallucinating. Have you ever done that?"

She shook her head.

"I kept hearing a baby cry. The longer it went on the worse it got. My head started pounding. I couldn't see. My heart was racing. And then I couldn't think. I didn't know it could get any worse. Not until the vomiting started..."

She was watching me and if I hadn't been freaking out, I would've been impressed with how quiet she was.

"I don't know who and I've asked myself a million times why, but someone found me. When I woke up I was in a hospital. As soon as I was able, I walked out. They didn't want me to go, but…" I looked away. "The first thing I did was find a liquor store." I stood up, bottle in hand. "I tried a couple of times after that. But I didn't make it past the first shakes."

She frowned.

I brushed my hair out of my face. "I told her I'd stop… She's gonna leave me…"

"Let's go back inside," she said sadly.

I followed her. We sat down at the table.

"You've got to tell her," she said. She took another drink of coffee. "There's no point in lying to her."

"Right… and she's gonna leave. And as soon as Kurt and the rest of them find out, they're gonna make her."

She shook her head. "I won't let them," she frowned. "If you tell them."

I nodded. "I need this," I told her, gesturing with the bottle.

"I know you do. Just drink what you need." She sighed. She got up and started cleaning the kitchen. "And put it away before they get back. No need to rub it in her face."

"Okay," I told her. I sat at the table while she cleaned. I downed about half the bottle.

She took it away from me. "I'm gonna put this in here," she said, sticking it in a cabinet in the living room. "Go brush your teeth," she said. "They'll be back soon."

I got up and went into the bathroom. I was so ashamed of myself. Of what she just saw. But I was kinda glad she was here.

When I came back out, they were back. Rachel was carrying several bags. "Find anything?" I asked her. Shit… how could she buy that much stuff in that little time?

"We needed stuff," she smiled.

Brittany pulled out a bathing suit. "No pastels," she smiled at Santana and kissed her. "See? Rachel picked it out."

It was difficult not to roll my eyes because it was definitely better than the lavender bathing suit I'd gotten.

Santana grinned at Rachel. "You're awesome, you know that?"

Rachel nodded. "I am aware."

"And modest," Blaine added.

"Extremely," she agreed.

They went to change. They were excited to go to the beach. Rachel wrapped her arms around me after they were gone. "How are you?" She asked.

I hugged her. "I missed you."

"I wasn't gone that long, silly." She hugged me back and then pulled away. "What's wrong?"

We needed to talk. We did. But I wanted her to have fun. She seemed… happy. I couldn't mess with that. Not right now.

"Nothing," I smiled at her. "Let's go to the beach."

When I said 'let's go to the beach,' I didn't mean 'let's take two hours to get ready first.' To go to the beach. Right outside the house.

"We do not need all this stuff," I whined, when Rachel piled yet another incomprehensible thing in my hands.

"We do," she said. "Otherwise we'll just have to come back and get it. That's stupid."

Her logic astounded me, but I stayed quiet.

Santana was holding as much as me. "Are we sleeping out there?" She asked when Blaine placed a bag on top of her pile. "And why the fuck am I carrying your stuff?"

He shrugged. "You're stronger than me." He grabbed Kurt's hand and they took off running.

I was pretty sure she would have chased him had she not been designated as Brittany's pack mule.

I almost started laughing until Rachel threw another towel over my shoulder.

"Rach," I groaned. "Seriously? This is enough." I felt Noah throw his towel on top of my pile. "Asshole!" I yelled as he scooted out the door.

Sam started laughing until Mercedes stuck her giant floppy hat on his head.

"Who's laughing now, bitch?" Santana asked.

"Open the door," I motioned with my head to B. I'd have done it myself but I was balancing seven hundred pounds of shit.

"Wait," Rachel said, "I'm not ready." And not holding anything.

"Don't care," I told her.

"Where are you going?" She asked.

"To kill Puckerman…"

She grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back. "No. No way. Come back here."

I turned around. "What?"

"I've got to get some more water." She turned to Brittany. "Do we have sunscreen?"

"I don't know." Britt answered. "Let me look," she said, digging through the bags S and I were holding.

I had to consciously fight not to roll my eyes. I felt Santana nudge my arm with her elbow. "You good?" She whispered softly.

I nodded and followed her out the door.

After we finally got everything set up, they jumped in the water. I sat down on one of the chairs. I grabbed a water and swallowed the whole bottle. I pulled the sunglasses down over my head.

"Come swimming with us," Rachel called from the water.

"I don't swim," I called back.

"Quinn Fabray, that is a blatant lie!"

"I don't swim in the ocean." I clarified.

She shook her head and dunked Kurt. I wasn't too sure if he was okay, but I also didn't really give a damn.

They played in the water for about thirty minutes. I drank three more bottles of water. I was so thirsty it was almost pathetic.

I finally stood up.

"Hey," Rachel said. "Where are you going?"

I gestured at the water bottles. "Gotta pee."

"Just pee in the ocean," Brittany said.

"Eww!" Everyone screamed, jumping away from her.

"What?" She asked.

"Uh yeah," I answered her. "I'm just gonna go inside."

S started walking out of the water. "I'll go with."

I waved her off. "I can go to the bathroom by myself. Thanks though."

One drink wasn't going to hurt, right? And they would be none the wiser. My head was hurting. I just needed one drink.

I fished around in the cabinet until I found the bottle. I turned it up as fast as I could. I drank about half the contents before I put it back and took a deep breath. My heart had already stopped racing.

"Wow," I heard behind me.

Of fucking course…

I turned around slowly.

"Guess everything you said last night was a lie, huh?" Rachel asked.

I moaned. "No. It wasn't." I closed my eyes. "I just can't stop, Rach. If I could, I'd have already done it."

"So you were what? Just going to hide it? For how long? Until I found you in the bed with some girl?"

Fuck. "You know better than that…"

"Do I?" She moved into the room.

She was maddeningly frustrating sometimes. "Sit down," I told her.

She shook her head. She stood in front of the door with her arms crossed across her chest.

I sighed. "Please?" I asked quietly.

She huffed but relented. She didn't uncross her arms though. The universal 'Rachel is pissed' sign. I knew it well.

"I need you to understand something," I told her. "I'm an alcoholic."

She nodded. "I know that, Quinn…"

I shook my head. "No. You don't. You don't understand what that means."

She still had her arm crossed. "It means you drink. All the time." I watched her roll her eyes. There was a time when that would have been the end of our conversation. I wouldn't have responded to haughty well. I marveled for a second at how much I'd changed.

I finally shook my head again. "No. I mean yeah, it does, but that's not all of it."

She looked at me questioningly. My chest constricted. I sometimes forgot how innocent she could be. It came from trying to always see the best in people.

I took a deep breath. "A lot of people abuse alcohol, Rachel. But not everyone is an alcoholic. Maybe it's because…" I shook my head. In some ways, I didn't really know why. In others… "…I have to drink."

She shook her head back at me. "No one has to drink. They choose to."

"At first," I relented. "At first, I chose to. Now I have to. I need it." I looked down. "If I don't have it… I… I…" Fuck. There was no reason to tell her all of that. "I just have to have it."

"What does that mean?" She asked. She was close to whining. I could tell she didn't believe me.

"Rachel," I controlled my voice. "Listen to what I'm saying. I have to drink. I can't just stop."

She looked at me with those expressive eyes. "What will happen? If you stop?"

"The last time I tried…" I faltered.

"What? What happened?"

"I don't remember. After the vomiting… I don't remember. Not until I woke up in a hospital."

She looked away. I watched her worry her lip and I knew she was fighting with herself. It would be so easy for her to lecture me on willpower and self-control. But Rachel had changed as well. "So what do we do?" She turned back to me. "Do you want to stop?"

I nodded.

She nodded. "Well then what do we do?"

"I don't know, Rachel. But you can't just throw it all away."

"Okay," she relented. She nodded with her head towards the door. "Want to go back outside? I mean… do you feel better now?"

I got up and motioned for her to follow me. "Yeah… let's go," I smiled at her.

She at least attempted to smile back.

* * *

_I stumbled into the bedroom and fell against the door. The only light in the room was the clock. It was past two in the morning._

_I could see her lying in the bed. Her back was to the door and she was curled into a familiar position. She jumped when tripped._

_"Sorry," I mumbled, pulling my boots off._

_She didn't answer._

_I sat down on the bed and took off my shirt. When I turned around, I knew she was awake but she still had her back to me._

_"Where've you been?" She finally asked. She still didn't turn around._

_"Out," I muttered. I stood up and took off my pants. Once I was finished, I watched her for a moment almost willing her to turn around. She didn't._

_I finally lay down and put my hand on her shoulder. She shuddered. I pulled it back._

_"Go to sleep," she finally said. I watched her body deflate slowly._

_"Talk to me," I whispered. "Please just talk to me." My voice was soft, but it was the only sound in the room._

_"I can't," she murmured, so quietly I wasn't sure she was even answering me._

_I sighed. She scooted as far away from me as possible. I finally just turned away from her. _

_I fell asleep to the sound of her crying. It was the only constant in our lives now._


	5. Chapter 5

**The visceral reaction to this fic is amazing. It's raw, I know. I am glad that people like it though. It's a little different because I want to keep editing it but I don't want to take away from the… well, simplicity? I don't know what the right words are. Anyway, thank you so much for reviewing. I'm glad you guys like it. Or at least are reacting to it.**

* * *

Chapter 5

We spent the rest of the day on the beach. And I was good. Being good, I mean. I didn't feel so good, but… I was trying.

Kurt and Blaine offered to make dinner. I still wasn't a hundred percent positive they weren't going to poison me. Plus I'd rather drink my dinner, thank you very much.

When we got back inside, I really thought about going to the cabinet and finishing the bottle, but I was trying... I couldn't say that knowing I just couldn't go get a drink wasn't making me mental though. Because it was.

Rachel and Britt were in the bedroom doing something. If it had been a few hours earlier, I would've wondered what. Right now… I didn't care.

Santana and Puck sat down across from me. "So…" She crossed her legs. "You look like shit."

He nodded his agreement.

"So do you two," I muttered.

She scoffed. "Uh, fuck no… I look hot." She leaned forward. "Seriously. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, we're worried." Puck added. "You feeling okay?"

"When the hell do people stop asking you that? 'Are you okay?' Is there like a goddamn point when people are like 'well, it's fucking obvious she's not okay so let's just stop fucking asking her if she's fucking okay,'" I growled.

"Wow, so…" Puck frowned. "We're gonna take that as a no."

"Good idea," I muttered.

Santana motioned with her head towards the cabinet. "You want me to sneak you a drink?"

I moaned. "Fuck…I don't know. Goddamn it…" I looked towards the bedroom. "She caught me earlier," I whispered.

They nodded at me.

"How the hell do you know?"

"Cause I'm good at reading people, fucker," she said. "You looked like a kid who just got caught with their hand in the cookie jar." She opened the cabinet and poured me a glass. "Here."

I took it and swallowed it quickly. "Thanks," I muttered. I handed the glass back to her. No need in me getting caught holding that. "You know what is gonna make this harder than anything?" I asked them.

"What?"

"The fact I know I have to quit." I sighed. "I didn't use to need it. Nothing worse than feeling this weak," I mumbled.

Puckerman nodded. "I get it." He frowned. "Is that all you've done? Drink? I mean… you know, nothing else?"

I shrugged. "I had money…" I cut my eyes at Santana.

She sneered back. "Not talking about that, jackass…"

"But yeah. For the most part. It used to be an escape," I said, changing the subject. "At first…"

* * *

_They were all in the kitchen downstairs having one of those 'meetings' they had. We all worked with or around Rachel. Even in adulthood, she was still our star. There was a time when I ran these meetings. I managed everything she did. _

_At least… I used to._

_"What's going on?" I announced. "Lose my invite?"_

_"Quinn," Blaine started. "Good to see you."_

_"Nice to be seen," I muttered back._

_Rachel was sitting on the couch with Santana and Brittany. Kurt and Blaine were sitting in chairs across from them. And Finn was here. Motherfucking glee reunion…_

_"What the hell brings you here?" I asked him. I assumed this wasn't a work meeting. Not that anyone was working..._

_"Good to see you too," he said. "When's the last time you slept?"_

_Fuck him. "When's the last time you've read?"_

_"Quinn," Puck started. "Come sit down."_

_"I'm good," I muttered. _

_Rachel stood up. "You're good? Really? You look like hell."_

_"Rachel!" Brittany exclaimed. _

_She spun around on her. "She's drunk, Britt." She looked at the clock. "At two o'clock in the afternoon. She's so drunk she can barely stand up."_

_I hadn't realized I was swaying until she said that. I put my hand on the wall. "I'm not drunk." I moved to leave._

_"Where are you going?" Rachel called after me._

_"Out!" I yelled back. I turned around. "I can't sit around this house watching all you people mope and cry." I noticed the looks on their faces. "Or feel sorry for me. You can all go to hell." I looked specifically at Finn. "And if they called you here because of me, you can go. I don't need your stupid help."_

_He moved over to me. "I didn't come here because of you, Quinn. You can't help someone who clearly doesn't want help." He shook his head. "I came because I was worried about Rachel."_

_I rolled my eyes. "Noble of you, huh? Swooping in and saving the swooning damsel." I closed the space between us. "Got something up your sleeve? Cause the ice queen doesn't melt for just anybody."_

_He grabbed me. "You're an idiot."_

_I lunged at him. He sidestepped me easily and I fell to the floor._

_Santana tried to pick me up. "Get up," she muttered, pulling on my arm._

_I jerked away from her. "Let me go," I growled, pulling myself up instead._

_"Quinn," Kurt said. "Perhaps if you sat down and calmed down a bit…"_

_"Fuck you," I told him._

_San grabbed my arm. "We're going for a walk," she told them._

_I jerked away from her again. "Fuck you, too." I looked around the room, stopping on Rachel's face. "You know what? Fuck all of you." I mumbled, storming out._

* * *

Dinner was okay. It was food. Food, for the most part, sucked now. I ate, but… you know without alcohol food was just boring.

"So what do you guys want to do tomorrow?" Mercedes asked. No one spoke. "Cause there are a few little shops, I'd kind of like to visit… Not that this is my vacation or anything." She smiled at Rachel and me. "I mean, we're here for you and…"

Rachel shrugged. "It's okay, Mercedes. I think you'd enjoy it."

She nodded. "I know Finn told me one time…" She stopped speaking.

Everyone else stopped eating and looked up.

Sam put her hand on her shoulder. "Hey… it's okay," He smiled sadly.

She nodded. "I'm…" she shook her head. "Wow…" Her voice choked.

Puck tried to smile. "It's okay," she said. "We all feel the same way."

Blaine nodded. Kurt was trying not to cry.

I needed a drink.

I heard Rachel before I saw her drop her water. It spilled all over the table. She let out a sound that sounded like a muffled cry.

"Rachel," I whispered.

The rest of them jumped up and started cleaning up the mess. But she just sat there.

"Hey," I tried again. "Rachel?"

She was staring towards the wall, ignoring me. She jumped up suddenly. "God," she choked out softly. She shrugged my hand off and ran out.

"Go," Kurt said. "It's fine."

I nodded at him and followed her out. She was standing outside, her back to the house. Her hands were on the railing and she was crying so hard she was shaking. It was weird. Because even though she was sobbing, she wasn't making a sound.

I walked up behind her softly. "Rach?" I put my hand on her shoulder.

She started crying harder.

"Hey," I said, turning her around. "Come here," I whispered. I pulled her to me.

She shook me off. "I let him die," she sobbed out.

I shook my head. "You didn't."

She shook her head back at me. "You don't even know what happened…"

"You're right," I told her. "I don't. But I know you. And I knew Finn."

"He was on of the only people…" She choked up. "Quinn…" she turned away from me again.

I didn't know what to say. "I suck at this…" I finally said.

She stopped crying and looked at me. "What?"

I motioned between us. "This…" I said. "This comforting stuff. I never know what to say." I sighed and sat down on a lawn chair. "You know what people said to me?"

"What?"

"It's going to be okay." I told her. "Did people say that to you too?"

She nodded. "All the time."

"What kind of comfort is that?" I rolled my eyes.

She frowned. "How about 'she's in a better place?'" She sat down across from me. "That one always sucked. How do they know where people end up?"

"I don't know," I told her. "Someone at the funeral told me 'you're still young. You can have another one.'"

She sat up suddenly. "No they didn't?! Who?"

I shrugged. "No clue. Some friend of your dads' I think." I smiled sadly. "I get it though. I mean, what do you say?"

"What did people say to you to make it better?"

I nodded towards the house. "Uh… you know how you had to hide all the alcohol from me?"

She nodded, confused.

"Yeah… so nothing. No one said anything really. The only thing that worked was that. What about you?"

She sighed. "At first… nothing. I mean everyone was sort of wrapped in their own grief." She looked away. "After you left," I looked away when she faltered.

"After you left," she started again. "I don't know… after they got over some it… sometimes we'd just sit. I don't know really." She sighed. "Hope was…"

Right. "So she saved the day…"

She took a deep. "In a way. She was a dancer. She just sort of came over one night with Brittany after a show and..."

"And?" Why was I asking? I didn't want to know this.

"And…" she looked at me. "It doesn't matter. She just never left."

I shrugged. "Gone now."

She frowned. "She wasn't a bad person. She felt threatened."

"She had a good reason to feel that way what with me threatening her and all."

She shook her head. "Before Finn…" She looked down. "She kept asking me about how we…" She couldn't look at me. "How Eva was conceived." She closed her eyes. "I think she wanted…" She didn't finish. She didn't fucking have to.

I gulped. "Wow," I muttered. "I don't know what to say…"

"Yeah, me neither."

"Would you have done it?"

She didn't answer.

"Wow," I whispered again.

"Was there anything that's made you happy the last year? I mean it's been so long and I…" She looked down at her hands.

I shook my head. "Back to Hope…" I said.

"Really?" She asked, raising her eyebrow at me. "Do you really want to know this?"

I didn't know. I couldn't argue it wasn't needling at me. "I told you I was a masochist. Was it the same? Like with me?" I was going for a new level of pain tonight.

She looked shocked. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. Did it feel the same?"

She put her hands over her face. "Oh god." She pulled them away. "No. It felt… different."

"How?"

"Why all of a sudden do you want to know?" She stood up. "I don't want to know about your girls. Not at all. Don't tell me."

"I wasn't," I mumbled. This wasn't about my drunken escapades anyway.

She sighed and took my hand. "Can we go to bed?"

"Why are you changing the subject?"

She walked to the door, ignoring me. The lights were off inside. The others probably went to bed already. Or they were giving us some space.

"Rachel?" I stood up. "Why are you ignoring me?"

She stopped after she opened the door. "She felt safe. And normal, Quinn." She didn't turn around.

"Right," I muttered. I went to move past her. There was a fucking bottle calling my name.

She grabbed my arm. "And not you." She ran her hand through my hair. "Nothing about her was like you."

I stepped closer to her. I pushed her against the glass frame she'd just opened. "And what's me?" I whispered huskily.

She closed her eyes. "This," she moaned softy.

I picked her up and kissed her. Pressing her hard against the glass door.

"What's this?" I muttered against her neck.

"Everything," she whispered back.

By the time we'd made it to the bedroom, I had her shirt off. I threw her on the bed on her stomach. I reached underneath her and unhooked her shorts and slid them off.

She went to turn around. "Don't," I mumbled, standing behind her.

Her face was turned to the side, but she wasn't looking at me. "What are you doing?"

I took off my shirt, but I didn't move. I couldn't stop staring at her. Her legs were hanging off the side of the bed and I... I wanted her to forget the name of the woman who wanted to take my place. I wanted to be enough.

She started to turn around again.

"Stay," I told her.

She moaned.

I parted her legs with my foot and stepped in between them.

"You still have your pants on," she said quietly.

"Yeah," I told her.

I traced my fingertip down her spine and hooked it in her panties. I slid them off.

She moaned again.

I grabbed her shoulders and pushed her further up the bed. Nothing but her feet was hanging off. She'd stopped trying to turn around though. I spread her legs further apart with mine. "Don't move," I whispered. I took off my pants.

And she kept moaning.

I ran my hand down her side and kept the other hand on the small of her back. Her body was on fire. And even before I touched her… I could feel the heat coming off her. The palm of my hand slid against her and I almost lost my balance. Almost.

When I entered her from behind she groaned. I slid my other hand to her waist and brought her to her knees. She pressed back against me. I kept my hand still inside her.

"Please," she mumbled, pushing her head against the mattress. "Please."

I would've sold my soul to see her face.

I grabbed her hip tighter and used my other hand against her. I couldn't only use two fingers and it always baffled me that was all she could take.

"Uh," she muttered. "It's uhh…" I loved that she tried to talk when we did this.

"Does it hurt, baby?" I was going slowly. Barely moving my hand.

"No, it's…" I wiggled my fingers just a bit. "It's… not… hurting…"

I pulled her tighter against me. "Does it feel good?" I whispered.

"Yes," she choked out. She turned her head against the mattress. Her eyes were closed and her hair was matted against her forehead. I reached down and moved it out of her eyes. She opened them and stared up at me. "Please."

She was already so close. And I wasn't moving that much. I wanted to be rough. I wanted her to scream my name. But I didn't want to hurt her. It was a familiar conflict, trust me.

She started moving then. She put her elbows on the bed and pushed against my hand. I watched her push her forehead back against the bed.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"Please," she was groaning. "God, just… uhh…"

I pulled my hand out.

"What are you…"

I pushed her all the way down on the bed and spread her legs with mine. I lay on top of her back and slid my hand back between her legs.

"Oh god," she screamed, when I entered her again. She pressed herself against my palm.

I moved my other hand around her front and underneath her. She started jerking beneath me.

"God!" She screamed. "Please…" she was breathing out in small bursts. Panting. Bucking. "Harder…" she whispered.

"What did you say?" I whispered against her neck.

"Harder," she said louder, against the mattress.

I sped up the rhythm of my hands. It was an awkward position but I didn't have to do much. She was basically moving against me. I ground into her. I was as already close and when I slid against her, she moaned louder than before.

The sound of my hand sliding against her. The sucking noise it was making… it was fast sending me over the edge. She was breathing with that steady shallow burst of air she makes when she can't take it, but then she moaned again and rose up, grinding against me.

"Please…" she tried to steady her breath. "With me…" she muttered into the mattress. "Please…"

I pushed as hard into her and against her as I ever had.

"God…" I muttered, in her hair. "I'm going to…"

"Uh uh uh," she was breathing. "Me too…"

I moaned, as she panted. It felt like my entire body melted into her. When I slid against her one last time, it was enough. "Fuck…" I screamed, throwing my head beside hers on the mattress. I hadn't stopped pumping my hips. I felt her clinch around my fingers as she let out that small burst of air.

I kept my hand inside of her.

It took us both a moment to control our breathing.

"I don't ever want to leave here," I said, wiggling my fingers. "Mine," I'm pretty sure I was pouting. I briefly wondered what the hell I was doing.

And then she did this thing that just about sent me over the edge again. She clinched. But it was voluntary and it pulled my fingers further inside. "Yours," she whispered, raising up on her knees and taking me with her.

I was kneeling over her. My hand was still inside her. Jesus, I might die here tonight, I thought.

She started moving against my hand. Back and forth. I had to steady myself to keep from falling, but come on… it was beyond hot.

And then she turned her head around and stuck her little lip out. "Am I gonna have to do all the work?" She pouted.

I growled and pulled her against me.

* * *

I woke up around midnight.

Rachel was lying on her back, the blankets thrown over her stomach. At some point she'd gotten up and put on a t-shirt. I lay there for a moment watching her sleep before I finally got up and threw some clothes on.

I moved out of the room as quietly as I could. I watched her as I shut the door to make sure she didn't move.

She didn't.

I tiptoed into the kitchen and grabbed the keys to the car she'd rented off the counter. I wasn't sure wasn't sure where I was going, but I had to get out of there. The house was silent when I slipped out the front door.

Sex with Rachel was… well, different. Most of the encounters I'd had over the last year had been drunken stumbles. I couldn't even remember the girl's name half the time and I was always looking for an exit plan as soon as I woke up or sobered up… whichever came first.

With Rach though… it came with heavy emotions. I'd long ago memorized every sound she made, every curve of her body. Like drinking, she was an addiction I couldn't kick. But that was twice now. Twice we'd been together since I came back. I didn't want to leave her and I sure the hell didn't want to lose her, but… I felt guilty. And for the life of me, I couldn't figure out why.

There was a hotel about four miles from the house. Some sort of resort, but it had a bar and it looked busy. I pulled in without even thinking.

There were a lot of people inside for this late at night. And I got a lot of looks. I ignored them because I was used to it. I got that people noticed me. It didn't mean they needed to know me. I wasn't the silly little cheerleader anymore.

The bartender was a young guy. He looked fresh out of college. He smiled when I sat down.

"Poison?" He asked.

"Bourbon," I mumbled.

"Any preference?"

I shook my head. "Whatever's closest."

He nodded and poured me a drink. "You staying at the hotel?"

I shook my head. "I've got a a house down the beach." I downed the glass and handed it to him. He poured me another one. "Might want to leave the bottle," I told him.

"Not a lot of hard drinkers around here." He said. "I've been making pineapple daiquiris all night."

That sounded disgusting. I shrugged. "What can I say? I'm an expert."

He smiled again and moved down the bar to take someone else's order.

From what I noticed (and trust me, I'm an expert here), there were two types of people that came into bars. The first type – your socializers. They came to hang out, meet up, or hook up depending on the night. The second type – your drinkers. They came for the alcohol and because they got tired of drinking at home. You could always tell the difference because socializers turn around on their bar stool (if they were even sitting at the bar). They made eye contact with others… they would smile, sip. Drinkers didn't turn around. They faced the bar. And they didn't watch the scene.

I'll let you guess what category I was in.

So I was always sideswiped by whomever it was that wanted to talk to me. And there was always someone. Usually I'd blow them off or take them home, depending on just how drunk I was.

It was easy not to make eye contact with people across the room. Harder when they sat down next to you.

"Hi."

I turned to my right and raised my glass before turning back around. "Hey," I muttered.

"I'm Tabitha."

"Quinn." I wasn't looking at her.

"Where are you from, Quinn?" She asked. I could tell by her voice she was feeling pretty good.

I turned back to her. "At the moment, nowhere." I took another drink. "You?"

She smiled. "Tennessee originally. But I go to the University of Texas. Senior."

I nodded. "Spring break?"

She giggled. "Too early for that. We just took a week off." She motioned to a group of girls and guys on the other side of the bar. "Girls' trip."

I cocked my eyebrow at her. "It looks like some of you girls are confused."

She laughed. "We just met those guys tonight."

"Right."

"Who are you here with?" She asked, signaling the bartender for another frozen concoction that made him roll his eyes.

"Long story," I mumbled.

"Are you staying here?"

I shook my head. "No. Just had to get out for a few minutes." I poured my fourth drink.

"So there is someone waiting for you then?" She took a drink.

"Who wants to know?" I asked her.

"Me," she smiled.

I sized her up. She was shorter than me. Blond. But weren't all college students? She was pretty in that college sorority girl way. I nodded at her. "So you're experimenting?"

She looked confused.

"Look, I'll be honest with you. You're not the first college girl to hit on me. You won't be the last. But trust me when I tell you, sweetheart, I'm a lot scarier than I look." I poured another.

She laughed. "I've been with girls before."

I laughed back though nothing about this was funny. "I'm not just a girl. Not the kind you're used to anyway."

She leaned in closer. "So what makes you so dangerous?" She whispered.

Damn it. I closed my eyes. "The fact that I could fuck you unconscious for one. You'd forget your name when your knees buckled. You'd wake up the next morning hoarse. And unable to walk. And you'd find bruises for the next two weeks in places you wouldn't even remember me being. " I took a drink. "I would make you cry. In fact, I could make you come without ever touching you."

She shivered. "That doesn't sound dangerous," she whispered. "It sounds hot."

I shrugged and turned away from her. "Then you didn't hear me."

"So what's stopping you?"

I took another drink. And then another. What was stopping me? I sighed. "Because you couldn't do any of those things for me, sweetie."

She smirked. "You're underestimating someone you don't even know."

I shook my head. "I know your type. In fact, ten years ago I was you."

She took a drink. "That's not fair." She motioned to her friends. One of the girls waved. "Ever had a package deal?"

I sighed. What the heck was I doing? "Look, I'm sorry. You're pretty. Lots of girls. Guys, whatever… would jump at the chance. But… I'm trying to make something work with someone. I'm thinking me jumping in bed with two barely legal college students would probably screw that up."

"To put it mildly," I heard behind me.

Goddamn it.

"Who are you?" College girl asked.

I spun around. Santana, Sam, and Puckerman were all standing there.

"Her friends," Sam spouted.

She smiled at them. "The more the merrier," she giggled.

I motioned with my head. "You probably want to go."

She frowned. "You get back around here, I'm in room 302," she said, walking off.

I ignored her.

"How the hell did you find me?"

They sat down.

"Fucking jet lag," Santana muttered. "None of us could sleep. We were playing cards in the living room when you snuck out like a confused cat burglar."

Puck nodded. "Had to call a cab. And then drive around this island till we spotted the car." He ordered a round of beers. "Rachel's gonna kill you."

"I'm just having a drink," I mumbled.

S picked up the bourbon bottle. "Or twelve." She sat it back down. "You know, we have those at the house?"

I nodded. "Had to get out."

They shared a glance.

"What?" I growled.

"Nothing," Sam said. "Just sounded like you and Rachel were… you know… doing okay earlier."

I put my head on the bar and moaned. "Great…"

Santana shrugged. "Thin walls. Fucking disturbing is what it is. Kind of like hearing my grandparents having sex."

Puckerman nodded. "Your hot grandparents." He grinned. "I mean I could almost hear exactly what you were doing to…"

I rose up quickly. "You finish that sentence and you're going home missing an important piece of equipment," I warned.

He pretended to lock his mouth and throw away the key. "Mum's the word."

"So what's with the chick?" San asked.

I shrugged. "I get hit on in bars, Santana." I took another drink. "Two weeks ago I would've…" I trailed off.

Sam swallowed the rest of his beer. "Please don't finish that sentence. My heart can't take it."

Santana motioned the bartender over. "Give me her tab. And the beers."

He nodded and went to ring it up.

"I'm not finished," I moaned.

She slid the bottle away. "You don't need anymore of that shit. You've had enough." She handed the guy her card. "It's late. We need to get back before they fucking realize we're gone. Or we're all screwed." She signed the receipt and grabbed the keys from my pocket. "And I'm not sleeping on the couch for another month because your dumbass fucked up and I didn't say anything." She pulled me off the stool. "So come on, cause we're leaving before you get a chance to fuck up again."

* * *

_I still didn't know why Finn was there. After I left that day, I got a text saying they were going to back to Lima for a few days. Even Santana went._

_What the fuck ever. I'd rather jump off a building than go there._

_When I got back to the house only Sam and Puck were there. And they both had to work or whatever. _

_I forgot how long it had been since I'd had the house to myself. Truth was… I'd spent the last few nights away from it anyway. I hated everything about it._

_So I was surprised when she wanted to see where I lived. I don't know why I took her back there…_

_"Come on," she whispered against my hair. "There are four of us in my hotel room. And who knows when they'll show up."_

_My hand was resting on her thigh. "That's what they make Do Not Disturb signs for."_

_She giggled when I ran it down her leg. In between them. "It's too far. You said you just lived a few miles from here. And that no one was home. What's the big deal?" She started to pout, her lip worried between her teeth._

_"Don't do that," I said firmly. _

_She shrugged. "Please?" She pushed her lips against my ear and breathed out. "Please," she whispered again._

_I took a deep breath. Somewhere in the deep recesses of my brain, there was a voice that was telling me this was a bad idea. I didn't give a damn if the people she was with came back. But… taking her back to the house was… "Look, I'll pay for a room."_

_She shook her head. "No. I don't wanna do it in a skeevy hotel room." She stood up suddenly. And then sat down on my lap, straddling me. "I want to go to your place."_

_I groaned. She was wearing a skirt. I ran my hand up her thigh. And no panties. I grabbed the bottle on our table and threw it back. "Fuck it," I mumbled. I stood her up, and followed suit. "Let's go," I said, grabbing the bottle and throwing a wad of cash on the table. I grabbed her hand and pulled her out the back door._

_I didn't even get her name. I didn't care._

* * *

When we got back to the house the lights were on.

"Fuck," I groaned, as Sam pulled in the driveway. "Please tell me you guys left that on?"

They shook their heads. Their faces mirrored how I felt.

Puck turned around to look at me. "So what do we say? We couldn't sleep and we took a drive?"

Sam nodded. "Yeah. I think if we keep it simple…"

I shook my head. "Don't lie for me."

Sam turned back around and opened his door. "We aren't lying for you. We're lying for ourselves. I don't wanna sleep on the couch either."

"Yeah," San said.

I opened the door. "Look. I'll just tell Rach the truth and you guys can tell them you came and got me. That shouldn't get you in…"

I didn't finish my sentence. Rach, Britt, and Mercedes were sitting in the living room in their pajamas. But they weren't alone.

"What the hell is she doing here?" I yelled.

Mercedes jumped up. "Sam! Where have you been?"

Brittany followed suit, running up to Santana. "Yeah. I woke up and you were gone."

Rachel was staring at me. Not saying anything.

And so was Hope.

I turned to Brittany. "They came and got me." I turned back to Hope. "And again, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Have fun?" She smirked.

"Excuse me," I said, stalking over to her.

She stood up. "Did you have fun tonight, Quinn?" She started walking towards me. "Cause it sure looked like you were having fun…"

I went to hit her but I'd had a little too much to drink and stumbled. Rachel jumped up and pushed me towards the couch. "Is this true, Quinn?"

"Is what true?" I muttered. I tried to get up. She pushed me back down.

"What she told me?" She asked, standing over me. Hope was standing beside her, leering at me.

"How am I supposed to know what she told you? She was supposed to be on a plane off this island this morning."

"I didn't go," she said.

"No shit, Sherlock." Santana muttered. "Didn't know I needed to follow you onto the plane…"

"That's not the point," Rachel started. "Is what she told me true?"

"I have no idea because I don't know what she told you," I tried again.

Hope sneered. "Guess who has a room at the beach club down the street?" She asked. "Nice little place. Lots of little college girls running around half naked. Not my cup of tea, but…"

So that thing about alcoholics not surveying a bar? That was biting me in the ass as we speak. Stealthy bitch.

I stood up again. Rachel tried to push me back down but I deflected her. "I don't know what she thinks she saw, but she's wrong."

She shook her head. "Not just what I saw." She pointed to her ears. "What I heard. 'You'd forget your name when your knees buckled. You'd wake up hoarse.' Sound about right?"

I felt like the breath had been knocked out of me. Rachel's face was a mixture of horror and pure disgust.

I put my hand on her arm. "Rachel, I didn't…" I tried to control the fact I was about to hyperventilate. "That's not what I meant. She's taking that totally out of context. It wasn't…"

Her lip was quivering. Quivering. Damn it. I spun on Hope. "Who do you think you are?" I raised my fist and went to swing. She caught it and punched me in the face. I fell backwards.

She was on top of me in no time. The combination of drinking a bottle of bourbon and Rachel's face left me distracted. She got three good punches in before I flipped us over.

Everyone was screaming, trying to pull us apart. Even Rachel. I slammed her head into the floor and she kneed me in the stomach. As soon as the breath left me, someone grabbed me.

Puck seized me and threw me across the room. Sam did the same to Hope. I jumped up. I wasn't finished. Drunk or not, I was going to kill her.

Puck grabbed me around the waist. "No way!" He screamed. Someone opened the back door and he threw me outside. Rachel followed. She slammed the door behind her.

I hit the ground and tried to stand.

She shook her head. "Stay down. You get back up and I'm walking out of this house and you'll never see me again." Her face was angrier than I'd seen in a long time. I didn't think it was an empty threat.

My nose was bleeding. I wiped it with the hem of my shirt. I stayed where I was though.

"Feel better?" She asked me.

"Is she dead?"

"No," she sighed.

"Then no. I don't feel better."

She nodded. "So that's it then? Back to our old ways, huh? Does it make you feel better if you hurt her? Beat her unconscious? Is that better than screwing someone unconscious?" She asked.

Goddamn bitch. As soon as they turned their backs…

She read my mind. "Don't blame this on her, Quinn. You're the one that said it." She crossed her arms. "You're the one that left this house after we made love. You're the one that drove to a bar and had drinks with a college student." She stalked over to me. "That was all you." She looked back inside for a moment. "Not her. You. So?"

I didn't say anything.

"Right," she mumbled turning around. "I don't care where you sleep, but it better be far away from me." She opened the door and went inside.

* * *

_"Oh god!" She screamed._

_We hadn't even bothered to get our clothes off. She couldn't keep her hands off of me. I pushed her down on the bed. _

_I ripped her skirt off. _

_She didn't seem to mind._

_When I pushed my fingers inside of her she started screaming._

_I didn't hear the door open. _

_I didn't know anything until she grabbed my hand and stilled it. I looked her in the eyes. "What?" I asked, aggravated she'd stopped me._

_She wasn't looking at me though. She was looking past me. That's when I felt it. I slowly turned around._

_Rachel was standing in the doorway, her hand over her mouth. I couldn't describe her face if I'd wanted to. Kurt and Brittany were standing behind her._

_I didn't move my hand. I couldn't move. _

_The girl underneath me scrambled to cover herself but no one else did or said anything. Not until Santana came running in, bumping into Brittany. "What's going…" She stopped suddenly. "Ay dios mio!"_

_I moved my hand then and threw myself on the bed. "Fuck," I muttered._

_"Oh god," the girl started crying. "I'm sorry…" she stood up, covering herself with her ripped skirt. She tried to move. To walk out, I guess. "I'm sorry," she said to Rachel. _

_Rachel stepped out of her way like she wasn't even there. She couldn't stop looking at me._

_The girl looked at Kurt. "I'm sorry," she muttered again. "I didn't know…" She was crying harder. And telling the truth. I hadn't mentioned anyone else. _

_Kurt nodded at her and led her out. "Let's call you a cab," he said._

_Santana and Brittany were still standing there behind Rachel. Her hand was still over her mouth. I wasn't sure if she was going to cry or vomit. _

_"Fuck," I moaned again and covered my face._

_She dropped her hand. She went to speak, but it was like she couldn't. She tried but she kept opening and closing her mouth. Then she just walked over to the dresser and grabbed a t-shirt and walked back out. Brittany followed her._

_I closed my eyes. I could still feel Santana in the room. "Got anything to say?"_

_She didn't answer me._

_I opened my eyes to see if she was gone, but she was still standing there. A look that lacked surprise on her face. She just shook her head sadly._

_"What?" I yelled at her. "Want to tell me I'm a fuck up? A whore? I told you so? What?!"_

_She didn't answer me though. She just kept shaking her head. And then she walked out and shut the door._

_I lay there for a few minutes with my hands over my face. If I could've formed a rational thought, I'd have been crying. As it was, I could hardly breathe._

_ It was Brittany that came back in. _

_"You're gonna want to get your stuff together," she said, not looking at me. _

_"Right," I nodded and stood up. "B, look… I…"_

_She held up her hand. "You need to leave soon," she sighed. "You don't have a choice in the matter. So get the stuff you want to take."_

_"I don't need anything," I muttered._

_"Right," she whispered. "We'll call you a cab." She walked towards the door._

_"Brittany," I tried again. I was finally crying._

_She stopped. _

_"I'm so, so…" I was gasping for air._

_"Q, you can't apologize this away. I'm sorry. Cause I know you're hurting but…" she sighed. It hurt that she wouldn't look at me. "This made us have to choose. I didn't want to have to do that. But… I had to give that girl a pair of pants to wear home, Q. Kurt had to call her a cab." She finally turned around. "And then… Rachel tried to leave. Kurt and Santana had to drag her back inside. I keep thinking how can we help them? Can we save them? But you don't want help. You want to ruin everything. I wish that wasn't the case because up until tonight… some things aren't your fault, Q. But this…" she waved her hand around the bedroom. "This is. So now we have to choose. And we're gonna choose Rachel." She frowned. _

_"I wouldn't have it any other way," I whispered._

_I watched her face. She seemed to be thinking but she was interrupted by Kurt barging in the room._

_"Get out of this house," he growled at me. _

_"I was just leaving," I spat back._

_He shook his head. "No. Pack your stuff. I mean it. Get everything that is yours in this room and get out. We do not want you coming back here. I mean it. You've got ten minutes."_

_"Going to set the microwave timer?" I muttered. The conversation felt familiar. Telling my father I was gay. Being thrown out at sixteen._

_He stopped and turned around. "I used to empathize with you, Quinn. I honestly thought…" he crossed his arms. "I honestly thought you'd changed… I guess a leopard never changes its spots." He walked over to the closet and grabbed a bag and threw it on the bed. "Ten minutes."_

_Brittany was frowning. I heard some commotion from somewhere in the house and I figured the rest of them were back. I grabbed as much of my stuff as I could pack and stormed by them._

_"Rachel," I called when I got in the hallway. _

_She didn't answer. _

_When I got to the stairs, I saw Puck, Sam, Mercedes and Blaine standing at the bottom. Puck was clenching his fists. Blaine was frowning. _

_"I can't believe you did this," Mercedes said. "Why didn't you try to talk to…"_

_"Don't," I told her. "I want to see Rachel," I said to Sam who was the only one that looked like they didn't want to kill me._

_"Rachel doesn't fucking want to see you," Puckerman said._

_I ignored him._

_"Where is she?" I tried again. "Where's Santana?"_

_Sam sighed, and almost answered me. Mercedes slapped his arm._

_I entered a staring contest with them, but no one would speak to me. I got it. I really did. They chose. _

_I didn't mean to make it a choice. _

_But I had._

_"Right," I nodded. I made sure to slam the door as hard as I could when I left the house._

* * *

I woke up the next morning to someone kicking the lawn chair I'd fallen asleep on.

"Hmm," I mumbled, turning over.

Brittany was standing over me, a cup of coffee in her hand.

I groaned and sat up. "What time is it?"

"Nine," she said, sitting on the edge of the chair.

"Where is everyone?" I muttered, taking the coffee.

"Most everybody's still asleep. Kurt's in the shower," she shrugged.

"And Rachel?"

She frowned softly. "She took Hope back to the hotel last night…"

I nodded. "She didn't come back." It wasn't a question.

So she didn't answer. "Did you know there was Internet access here?" She asked.

I shook my head.

"I've been looking at some places." She pulled out her phone and handed it to me. "That one's here. In the Caribbean."

"Rehab," I muttered, handing it back.

She nodded. "You want to get better?"

I sighed. "What's the point?"

"It's about five one, loud voice…"

"Who went back to the hotel with her girlfriend," I said.

She shrugged. "She'll be back."

"With Hope in tow no doubt," I sighed. "She told me Hope was normal."

B nodded. "She is."

"And I'm not…"

She shook her head. "No." She stretched her arms above her head. "Good thing Rachel doesn't like normal, huh?"

"No one is going to choose crazy when they don't have to, Britt."

"Have you met Rachel?" She laughed. "She always chooses you."

"There was one time she didn't…" I whispered.

She didn't seem to hear me or she just ignored me. She finally handed her phone back to me. "Is this an option? Because if it is, I'm calling them. And you're going. As soon as they can get you in."

I looked at the place again. "Do you think it would help?"

"You to stop drinking?"

I nodded.

"Yeah. I do. If you wanna stop." She shook her head. "I'm not sure it'll help the other…"she trailed off.

"What other?"

"I don't know if it'll help the sad. I'm not sure there is anything to help the sad really. But time. Which you are kinda running out of. Guess the sad won't matter if you're dead." She said, matter-of-factly. "Course then Rach will die too. That'd suck."

"I don't know how to get over the grief, Brittany. I've been trying."

She shook her head. "You've been avoiding. Big difference. Of course, you don't even remember what happened. So I can understand why you can't deal with some of it." She patted my leg. "You blocked it out. Did you know that? The doctor told Rachel there was no reason for you not to remember."

I closed my eyes and lay back. "I really can't remember. Except one night…" I stopped talking. "It doesn't matter."

"No. One night what?"

I shrugged. "One night, I think I dreamed about it. I woke up screaming."

She nodded. "You were awake when they found you."

I sat up suddenly. "What?!"

"You were awake," she said again.

I swallowed. "How do you know?"

She took a deep breath. "Santana and Puck. When Rachel called and said you hadn't made it to the airport, they left looking for you."

What was she talking about? "That's not true."

She shook her head. "Rachel called around eight. She was really freaking out. She couldn't get you on the phone." She closed her eyes for a moment. "So they left to see if they could find you. We sent Sam and Mercedes to the airport to get Rach. Kurt and Blaine were about to go the opposite way when we got a knock on the door."

"Who?" I whispered.

"The police. They told us there was an accident. Not what had happened. Then Kurt's phone rang. It was Puck." She thought for a moment. "I remember him dropping it like it was hot or something. It made this really loud sound when it hit the floor. Blaine called Sam and Mercedes. He kept trying to say it but he couldn't get the words out. I could hear Mercedes yelling 'What' over and over again. Blaine just kept saying, 'it's bad.'"

I never knew who'd gone and gotten Rachel. "I didn't know that."

She nodded. "We didn't talk about it."

"When they saw Rachel…" she swallowed. "She knew, you know? She just knew. She started screaming. In the middle of the airport. It wasn't really crying. It was wailing. Mercedes forgot to hang up the phone and we could hear her." she choked up, but didn't cry. "That was really bad. Her screaming like that…"

I looked away.

"When we got to the hospital, they were already there. We could hear Rachel screaming 'let me see her,'" she muttered. " We thought she was talking about you. But she wasn't…" She swallowed again. "Santana and Puck looked… I'd never seen them so scared before. You were in a room and they had given you all that medicine. I know you don't remember any of it."

I nodded. I couldn't trust my voice.

"I tried to talk to Santana but she said, 'don't ever ask me about it.' I could tell she meant it. So I never did." She sighed. "It took me six months to ask Noah what he saw that night."

It took me a moment to realize she was going to tell me. "I don't think I'm ready."

She sighed. "I don't really care. I'm going to tell you. You can yell at me if you want, but that'll just piss off my girlfriend."

I couldn't argue with that.

"He said when they rounded the curve they saw the flashing lights. They were cutting you out of the car." She stopped speaking for a second. "They wouldn't let them past at first… but somehow they got through. You kept telling them to get Eva. She was crying, you said. Puck said she wasn't in the car though."

I could feel the tears on my cheek but I refused to acknowledge them. "Where was she?" I whispered.

"I don't know." She was better at composing herself than me. She took a very deep breath. "The backseat was gone," she finally said.

I gasped. "God," I was crying. "I hadn't seen…" I couldn't catch my breath. "I didn't know what happened to the car…"

She nodded. "I know. Neither does Rachel. Or anyone else. San's never talked about it. Not one word. After she told me not to ask her about it she wouldn't speak at the hospital. She just sat there by your bed while you slept. We had to take Rachel home because the doctors gave her something, but Santana wouldn't leave... I think she saw something Puck didn't… at the accident…" she trailed off. "Anyway, when they cut you out… He said the paramedics couldn't believe you were alive. He said you just kept telling them to get the baby. That she was crying."

I cried into the palm of my hands. "I don't remember."

She patted my knee and then put her arm around me. "I know you can't." She put her head on my shoulder. "No one should have to go through that, Q. It's so not fair. It's not what's supposed to happen."

I closed my eyes. "When her first birthday came… I wanted to kill myself."

She pulled back but didn't look surprised.

"I had it all planned out. I even wrote the notes."

"What stopped you?" She asked quietly.

"Rachel…" I spoke softly. "I didn't want someone to find me and to…" I shook my head. "I didn't want to embarrass her."

She frowned at that. "Two months after you left, I found Rachel standing on the roof. She said 'I'm just getting air,' but… I don't think she was. I just took her hand and made her come inside." She tried to smile at me. "Hope's my friend. I didn't know they'd…" she trailed off. "She just came over one night and made Rachel laugh. Rachel hadn't laughed in forever. It was strange to hear it. I was glad when she came over again."

I winced.

"I'm sorry. I just… Hope helped Rachel a lot. So…"

I sucked in a deep breath and wiped my face. "I can't lose her."

"I know. Hope is a good person, Q," she said.

I started to speak.

"No, listen. She is. But she's not good for Rachel." She gestured to her phone. " But right now, neither are you. But you can be. So please? Will you go?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "I'll go."

She nodded back. "Okay." She smiled a bit. "I kind of already called them. We can go today if you want…"

She was sneaky; I'd give her that.

"Okay," I whispered.

"Should we go find Rachel now?"

I shook my head. "No. I don't want to hurt her anymore. I might not be able to do this. And she doesn't deserve having to go through that again. If I get out and I'm better, I'll come find her. If not… I'm gone from her life. She doesn't need the pain I cause."

She frowned. "She's gonna be furious."

"She'll survive."

She smiled. "At me."

I smiled back slightly. "You might survive."

She helped me up. "Go take a shower. I'm going to talk to the others. If Rachel comes back, I'm telling her. If she doesn't…"

"If she doesn't, after I'm gone, tell her I love her. More than anything in the universe. With my last breath."

She patted me on the back. "Love. Universe. Last breath. Got it," she said, following me inside.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

We got a plane within a few hours.

Britt and Santana went with me. Everyone else stayed behind.

Rachel hadn't shown up.

My head was killing me when we got off the plane. By the time we got a cab and got to the place I was shaking. I could barely walk. I hadn't had a drink since last night. Santana had to help me out of the car like I was sick. Brittany carried the one bag I had.

"You gots this," San whispered in my ear.

I didn't answer her.

I had to go through some intake program. They asked me a bunch of questions. Medical history. Psychological. It took a while. They stayed with me the whole time. I was at that point where I didn't even care what I looked liked. I couldn't stop shaking.

"How long does it take for the tremors to start?" The nurse asked me.

"Depends. Twelve hours maybe," I could barely speak.

She nodded. "The first couple of days are the hardest. It's just the alcohol leaving your system. We monitor you around the clock and try to make you as comfortable as we can, but… it's a difficult process." She took a few notes. "Have you tried to quit before?"

I nodded. "I don't remember much after I got sick."

"You won't let it get to that, will you?" Brittany asked, frowning.

The nurse shook her head. "No."

I hoped she was telling the truth.

She took a few more notes. "The initial phone call mentioned that you suffered a tragedy about a year ago. Can you tell me about that? Is that what started the drinking heavily?"

I nodded. I took a very deep breath. I tried to stop my hands from shaking. "My daughter died," I finally said. I wasn't sure how many times I'd said that out loud. Not many.

She nodded. "How?"

"A car accident. I was driving. Someone hit us." I rushed it out in a whisper.

"Have you been treated for that?"

"Treated?"

Psychologically?"

I shook my head. "No."

She hummed at that. "The program here is designed on a personal basis. You'll receive medical care as well as therapy tailored specifically to you. This has shown to have the most success in preventing relapses." She closed the folder. "Still, it requires a commitment. You have to want to quit. No one will tell you that it will work otherwise."

I finally nodded. "I do."

"Okay," she stood up. "If you're ready, you can come with me. You can take a moment to tell your friends bye." She turned to them. "You can speak to her in fourteen days if she wishes. Once we've gone through the detox portion of the program, she'll spend two more weeks in therapy. If she passes the evaluation, she'll be released."

They nodded. Brittany hugged me as tight as she could. "You're gonna do awesome."

Santana smiled. "Want me to hug you?"

I started to shake my head. But then I just nodded. "Kind of…"

She put her arms around me. "I'm proud of you. I'll be standing outside in four weeks," she said in my ear. She pulled back and winked at me. "I'll keep an eye on Berry for you," she said, trying to smile. "This is about you, Q. Not her. You get well and the rest we'll fix."

I nodded, afraid I was going to cry. I looked at Brittany about to speak.

"Universe, last breath. Still remember," she smiled sadly.

"Thanks," I whispered and turned to follow the nurse.

"Hey!" Santana called.

I turned around.

"You know we love you right?"

I nodded. I turned back around quickly and followed her out. I didn't want them to see my tears.

* * *

The first few days were a nightmare. And I didn't think I'd survive.

But I did.

The next few days were worse. And I stopped wanting to survive.

But I still did.

And then it got better. Slowly. But better. I stopped shaking. I stopped hallucinating. I didn't feel nauseous all the time. It's amazing how alcohol numbed the pain. Because on the tenth day there, I remembered.

* * *

_I rounded the curve and saw the lights. They were so bright. I briefly thought 'Am I on the wrong side of the road?' It didn't hit me at first._

_I turned the wheel. _

_I don't know why I did it. I just… I don't. I panicked. I overcorrected. Every thing I knew about driving was gone. _

_I shouldn't have turned the wheel._

_If he'd have hit us head on… if I'd have just stopped and let him. She may have survived. I might not have. I probably wouldn't have. But she might have. _

_The sound of metal on metal is deafening. But it wasn't as bad as the air I felt when he hit us. When the car started to flip. It just kept flipping. Over and over. I didn't think it would ever stop._

_I knew the back of my car was… I could feel the wind coming in behind me. I couldn't turn around. I tried. I was pinned and I'd lost all my strength screaming._

* * *

_It was my fault. _

My therapist Greg listened as I recalled my dreams. And all the memories that flooded back with them.

"It wasn't your fault," he said when I'd finished.

"I know how to drive," I told him. "I know what to do. Why did I turn the wheel?" I was crying.

"You had a second. One second. You went on instinct, Quinn. It wasn't enough time to make a conscious decision."

"So my instinct was to save myself."

He shook his head. "Your instinct was to avoid a collision. One that was unavoidable. That's what we do. We turn the wheel. We don't drive headfirst into an oncoming car."

I shivered. "I killed the only person in this world that's ever mattered to me," I told him.

He shook his head again. "You're lying to yourself again. You do that a lot. She's not the only person that you cared about. If it was reversed… If it had been Rachel driving, would you be able to forgive her?"

I thought about that for a moment. I'd never considered it. "Yeah," I finally said. "Of course."

He nodded. "Because it wouldn't be her fault. Right?"

I finally nodded back.

"So forgive yourself too. You deserve that."

"I don't know if I can."

He frowned. "So we've gotten phone calls. Someone who wants to visit. She's incredibly…" He paused, searching for a word. "Persistent."

"I can't see Rachel right now," I sighed.

He shook his head. "It's not Rachel." He caught my eyes and I knew he was trying to read me. "It's your mother."

I started shaking my head. "No. No way. I haven't seen her in over a year. I can't…"

I heard him sigh. I was getting so tired of his sighs. "Your alcoholism, it's a symptom, Quinn."

I raised my eyebrow at this. "Yeah, a symptom of being an alcoholic."

He shook his head. "No. I mean, yes… you are an alcoholic but… I need you to understand something…" He was watching me closely. "Sometimes… sometimes after a traumatic event… people get stuck. It's the normal shock of the trauma, but it doesn't wear off. After a traumatic experience you are supposed to process your emotions. Come out of it. With post-traumatic stress disorder however, you remain in psychological shock. Your memory of what happened and your feelings about it are disconnected. In order to move on, it's important to face and feel your memories and emotions."

"I don't have PTSD, doctor. I was in a car accident. Not war."

He frowned. "You experienced a trauma. A horrible one. And you've…" He searched for his words again. "…how many days can you say that you were happy? All of your life. Let's say if you could give me a percentage? Before Eva. As far back as you can remember."

I sighed and looked away. "I have no idea what you're even asking."

"Seventy-five percent? Sixty? Give me a number."

I shrugged my reply.

"So fifty? Is that close? Can you say you've been happy about half the time?"

"Twenty," I muttered.

He nodded. "You've told me about your childhood. Your parents. You're a perfect storm for PTSD, Quinn. Depression. Stress. You've never been taught to cope. You were taught to hide. And Rachel closed you out. Your family was hurting. There was no one there for you."

I shook my head. I wasn't sure why I was fighting this so much. "That isn't true. They tried. I just wouldn't…" I felt a tear run down my cheek and swiped angrily at it. "My mother was hurting too."

I watched him frown. "I'm sure she was. You said she and Rachel's fathers are close, right?"

"Yeah."

"So they had someone. And Rachel had all of your friends. You felt guilty and they let you feel that way. It's not a far jump."

I shook my head. "This isn't her fault. Or theirs… it's mine and I…"

"I know it's not their fault, Quinn. I'm telling you that they were factors." He leaned closer to me. "Listen, we can stop the drinking. We have stopped it. And I'm proud of you… but… you have got to deal with the other. The cause. Not the symptom."

I closed my eyes tightly and bit my lip. I didn't want to look at him. I couldn't talk about this anymore. "I don't know if I can."

"Your mother is here. She wants to see you. I told her she could come to tomorrow's session, if you agreed." He studied my face. "Do you?"

"She hates me," I whispered.

"Well, I can't speak for her, but I doubt very highly she does. And if she does… well, at least you know. So let me ask again - will you see her?"

I didn't want to. I couldn't face her. Even after I'd faced or semi-faced everyone else… But I promised them I would try. And that meant facing everything. "I guess," I whispered so quietly, I wasn't sure he heard me.

* * *

When I got to the therapy room the next day, I could hear my doctor talking behind the door.

"Go on in, honey," his receptionist smiled.

"I… I don't want to interrupt…"

She shook her head. "They're waiting on you."

I knew whom he was talking to then.

I knocked softly on the door and opened it. My mother was sitting on the couch I usually occupy. "Quinn," she whispered. She stood up and then sat back down abruptly. I'd never seen her so nervous. "I… I'm so happy to see you… I've been…"

I nodded. I didn't trust my voice. I just stood in the doorway like a moron and I had to will myself not to fall over.

"Come in," Greg said. He turned to my mom. "Judy…"

She nodded at him. "Sit down, sweetie," she said, trying to smile.

I sat in a chair on the other side of the room. I crossed my arms across my chest and made myself hold eye contact with her.

"Quinnie, I'm so…" I watched her swallow. Push down the emotions, Judy. You do it so well, I thought. She didn't though. The tears brimmed and spilled over. I'd never seen her cry so willingly before. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I didn't know you were hurting and…" She looked away and then turned quickly back to me. "…it's not your fault, sweetie." She stood up.

"Don't," I choked out, holding up my hand. "Please don't…"

She ignored my plea, and walked over to me. She squatted down in front of me. "I was so scared, Quinn. If Leroy hadn't been able to track you down… I was so afraid we were going to never see you again."

I looked away. "If you knew where I was… why didn't you…" I couldn't finish.

She shook her head. "I don't know," she started sobbing. "I was afraid to see you like this. Broken. I can't explain what I felt after Eva… I…" She swallowed. "I didn't want to blame you… but I…"

I closed my eyes. My cheeks were wet and I didn't think I'd ever cried that hard in front of my mother. "I didn't mean to hurt her," I finally got out. My sobs were close to strangling me.

"Oh sweetheart, I know that." She choked out. She wrapped her arms around me. It momentarily crossed my mind that she was on her knees in front of me. I'd never seen her sit like that before.

When she pulled me to her, I felt like I was falling off a building. My body felt as if all the bones were just… gone. I melted in front of her. I wasn't sure how I'd ended up on the floor with her, but I was. She was holding me.

"I'm going to make this better," she was chanting. "I'm going to make this better."

"Mom, I…" I couldn't speak.

"Shh," she whispered against my head. "I'll never leave you again. Even if everyone else on the planet does, sweetie. Not me." I felt her kiss my temple. "Not me."

It was the softness in her voice that broke me. I couldn't answer her. So, I just let her hold me.

* * *

My mother spent the next few days at the clinic with me. After my breakdown on the first day, Greg suggested we just spend some time together. He wanted me to think about the things he'd suggested.

I couldn't say I was looking forward to the next session but I knew I had to do it anyway.

"Quinn," he started. "I want you to explain to your mother and me exactly what emotions you've been experiencing since Eva's death."

I didn't speak.

My mother was wringing her hands, waiting for me to answer him. "Quinnie?" She finally prompted.

"What do you think I was feeling?" I was angrier than I'd been in a few days.

She jumped slightly at my tone, and then frowned. She looked back to Greg.

"Grief," he stated. "But more than that, I'm guessing. Be specific."

I shook my head and looked away from them.

"Okay," he relented. "Then why drink?"

I turned to look at him then. "What?"

"Why drink?" He asked again. "You were in car accident because of a drunk driver. Why drink? Have you ever asked yourself that?"

I had. Every time I took a drink. "I wanted to die," I whispered. "I wanted to die like her."

He nodded.

I could hear my mother crying but I couldn't look at her.

"I was killing Rachel. I was…" I swallowed. "Everyone looked at me with this look… like…" I wasn't even sure I knew what I was saying. "If I had died… instead of Eva… it didn't…" I trailed off.

"You didn't though," he said. "You're still alive."

I shuddered. "I shouldn't be."

"Quinn," my mom started. "Sweetheart, that is not true."

"Nothing is going to bring your daughter back, Quinn," Greg finally said.

I blinked away the stupid tears and nodded. "I know that. I'm not stupid. I just don't want to hurt anyone else. I keep hurting…"

"…yourself," he finished for me. "You keep hurting yourself." He frowned. "You are carrying a heavy load of self-blame and survivor's guilt. And that is something that you can't fix with alcohol. You'll only make it worse. You think you're punishing yourself by killing yourself slowly. But you're not. You're avoiding. You're punishing everyone else."

I gulped and the sound echoed throughout the room.

"Do you want to stop?"

I nodded slowly.

"Then you have to forgive yourself. Tell yourself it wasn't your fault." He took an envelope from his desk and pulled something out of it. My eyes were blurry and I couldn't see what it was at first. He stood up and walked over to me. "And look at her. Remember her. She deserves that. She deserves you remembering her. She deserves you surviving."

I closed my eyes. "No!"

"Please, sweetheart," My mother said. I felt her hand on my knee. "Look at her, honey. She was so beautiful. Just like you. She had your eyes."

I shook my head. "Please don't make me." I couldn't do this.

"Look at her, Quinn." His voice was forceful.

"I can't!" I wailed. "Please don't do this. Please… I can't… Oh god…"

"Do it for her, sweetie," my mom whispered. "If you don't do it for anyone else. If you won't do it for yourself, please…"

I sobbed but opened my eyes slowly. My mother was holding the photograph in her hands. I could barely see it at first.

* * *

_"Are you taking my picture?" I asked incredulously._

_I was the one who took the photographs. Rachel loved the camera. I loved to oblige. Especially if I didn't have to be in it._

_"She's laughing at you," Rachel smiled. "She doesn't do that for anyone else. Look at that grin, Quinn."_

_I picked Eva up and kissed her belly. "Are you laughing at Mommy?" I giggled. "Hmm?'_

_Her voice was what I imagined a cherub would sound like. Sweet. Melodic. The timbre with which she laughed sounded like a clear bell. _

_"I can't believe you finally found someone who thinks you're funny," Rachel mused, snapping another photo. "Now I don't have to pretend."_

_"You're mother is delusional. And a loud. And…" I blew on her belly this time. "…short. Tiny short. Which is cool I guess, because you guys can share clothes once you start kindergarten."_

_"Ignoring you, Fabray," Rachel smiled. _

_I sat Eva on my lap and put my arms around her. I pressed my cheek against Eva's and she cooed. "Also, she's dramatic. Insanely dramatic."_

_Eva curled her fists together and smiled at Rachel. I blew in her ear. She giggled like I'd told her the funniest joke on the planet. _

_"Oh my Barbra," Rachel squealed. "Get her to do that again!"_

_She had the camera poised. I rolled my eyes. But I obliged. _

_Like I said, I always obliged._

* * *

I was holding that photograph. The one Rachel took that day. It was three days before she left to go to Los Angeles. Ten days before my daughter died.

She was sitting on my knees and I was resting my chin on her shoulder. One of her hands was curled in my hair and the other one was reaching for Rachel, like she couldn't decide whom to give her attention to.

It was the smile though. That was what I wouldn't let myself remember.

I wasn't sure when it dawned on me, but I hadn't seen a picture of her since I left. I don't know how long I stared at the photograph. I ran my finger over and over it.

"I loved her so much," I finally whispered, not looking up. "I didn't know you could love something so much."

"You still get to love her," my mom said beside me. "Nothing can change that."

I nodded, but didn't speak.

"You also still get to live," Greg added. "Because you haven't been living for over a year. It's time."

I nodded again, softly.

"How can Rachel not hate me?" I asked my mom finally.

She frowned. "Rachel has felt a lot of different things, Quinnie. She's been sad. Angry. Terrified. But she's never hated you." She sighed. "But this is not about Rachel, sweetheart…"

"Your mother's right. You've got to fix yourself before you can repair anything else in your life."

I looked back down to the photograph. I was smiling in it. Really smiling. I was happy. I realized that my twenty percent of happiness was in that photograph. Sitting in my lap. I fought the urge to wrap my arms around myself. The space around me felt so empty. I expelled a deep breath. I was afraid I was going to cry again. And I didn't want that.

"Okay," I finally said as quiet as I could. "Okay…"

I wasn't sure happiness was a realistic goal.

I thought I should try to be alive first.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks for reviewing. There are a few questions that some people have that will be cleared up soon. I don't think Rachel was mad about the girl at the bar (in the fact that she thought Quinn was cheating or whatever). I think she was angry that nothing had changed. I sort of figured it would be obvious that Rachel would know Quinn didn't have time to do anything with the girl. To me, it wasn't about the girl anyway. It was about Quinn falling into old patterns. Sorry if that was confusing.**

* * *

Chapter 7

"We've had a request for a visitor," Greg started.

My mom had been here for a week now. I was getting better… as better as someone could get, I guess. I still had the urge to drink. But I'd learned to channel my urges. It meant a lot of time in the gym.

Everyday, my mother had shown me a new photograph of Eva. Or not new… but, well… new. I felt like sometimes I was seeing her for the first time. I wasn't sure how she'd gotten her hands on so many pictures of us together. I hadn't given them to her. Most of them Rachel had kept in a photo album.

I raised my eyebrow at Greg.

"Would you like to know whom?" He asked.

"I'm not ready…" I finally said. "I thought I was but…"

"Do you want to make it work?"

I sighed heavily. It was a loaded question. Did I? I loved Rachel more than anything in the world now. I felt like she was all I had tethering me to it sometimes. But to say I hurt her was a loaded understatement.

"The few days I spent with them," I started to hesitate. I knew if I didn't say everything now, I would never say it. "Those days… they seem sort of not… not real. Like I dreamed them."

He nodded. "You've been living in a haze for over a year now."

I thought about that. He was right. I hadn't felt this clearheaded in as long as I could remember.

"Why does she want to see me?"

"What makes you think it's her?" He asked.

"I know Rachel," I finally answered. "It's her."

My mother turned her head towards him. "Is it?"

He nodded once.

"I don't know," I whispered. "I don't know if I'm ready."

My mom frowned at this.

"Are you afraid?" He asked me.

I shrugged helplessly. "I don't know what I'm feeling. I'm not afraid of Rachel," I said. "I just… I'm afraid she hates me. How can she not?"

"You said earlier this week that you wouldn't blame her. Why would you assume she would blame you?"

I'd lied. I honestly didn't know what I would feel. If I were Rachel, I wasn't sure I couldn't keep from blaming her. Blaming someone. Wasn't that normal? Blame? "How can she not blame me? I was the one driving the car that killed her daughter."

"No," my mom said softly. "You were driving the car that was hit. Someone else killed her, Quinnie. Not you. Why do you keep doing this to yourself?"

I sighed. "One night I…" I took a very deep breath. I couldn't look at either of them. "One night I heard her… She was talking to Finn. It was before I started…" I didn't want to say 'sleeping around' or whatever… "acting out."

Greg leaned forward. "What did you hear?"

* * *

_It had been one week since Eva died. Two days since we'd gotten back from Lima. Rachel wouldn't speak to me. She walked around like she was a ghost. I caught myself staring at her because I was so afraid she was going to disappear._

_"Q? What are you doing out here?" I hadn't heard Santana walk up. _

_I'd been hiding in the backyard. There was a tree towards the back of the lot and I leaned as best I could on crutches against its base. Sometimes I felt like I could breathe outside. _

_"Nothing," I finally answered her. "Just getting some air."_

_"Your mom wants to know if you want something to eat?"_

_I shrugged._

_"You need to eat," she frowned. "Please. If you eat… then Rachel will eat."_

_It was a low blow._

_I nodded, resigned. "I don't know what to do, S. I really don't. I don't know how to talk to her. I…" I bit my lip so I wouldn't cry. I was so damn sick of crying._

_She put her hand on my shoulder. "Just try. You can't avoid her because she's avoiding you. Someone has to give. You're just existing in each other's spaces right now."_

_She was right. I knew she was right. "I'll try."_

_She smiled. "She's in the study. Finn went to check on her. He's going back tomorrow."_

_I sighed. Life moved on. People had jobs. Responsibilities. Just because we were stuck in a stasis, didn't mean that the world stopped for everyone else. _

_ It wasn't fair._

_Santana helped me inside, but I shook her off before I made my way to Rachel. I didn't want Rach knowing that San had suggested it. I wanted her to think I was putting in the effort on my own._

_Her voice stopped me outside the door._

_"I'm trying," I heard her say. "You don't know how hard I'm trying. And it's not fair. I know that, Finn. It's not. But I can't help it. I just keep seeing her… lying there in that hospital bed and not Eva. And it's not…" She broke down quietly._

_"It wasn't her fault," Finn said. "And she's hurting as much as you."_

_"Realistically… realistically I know that. I understand it was an accident. But I see her… and I'm just so… I'm so angry at her."_

_My legs felt weak, and I leaned against the wall. I closed my eyes. I should have just turned around and left but I needed it. It was twisted, but I almost wanted her to keep going. Every word she spoke felt like a blade cutting me. _

_"Have you tried talking to her?" He asked. "Maybe if you just…"_

_"No!" She screamed. It made me jump. "No! You don't understand how much I want… God, I just need all of this to go away! These feelings! This pity! I need her to go away! I can't even look at her. She was driving that car. I just…" I heard sob again. "I'm trying so hard to remember that I loved her. That I love her. And I know she's hurting but I just…"_

_I felt my stomach twist into a knot tighter than I'd ever felt._

_"Just what?" Finn asked._

_"I just don't care," she finally said. _

_"Rachel…" He started._

_I didn't stick around to hear anymore. _

* * *

"Does she know you heard her?" He asked me.

I shook my head. "What would be the point in telling her that?"

He gave me the trademark sigh. "Well nothing if you're finished with her. If you don't want to see her. If you want to move on… nothing. But, if you do. And you want to fix this. And you want to heal. Even if it's not with her… you still owe it to yourself. And to Rachel."

My mother cleared her throat. "Can I interject?"

He waved his hand at her.

"Quinn, you were Eva's parents. Are her parents…" she quickly corrected. "And… it's just the right thing to do, honey. I don't think you're going to ever heal if you don't face some of this. Please."

I let would she said sink in. "Have you spoken to her?"

"Not since I've gotten here. She's called a few times. And sent me more texts than I have the desire to count. I just sent her a message that you are improving. Dr. Thompson didn't think it prudent for me to share any more information than that."

He nodded. "This isn't something your mother can fix. This is about Rachel. And you. She called yesterday. I think once she realized that she wasn't going to get anything out of Judy, she had to go to the source." He smiled softly. "She's used to getting her way, I imagine."

I rolled my eyes. I can only imagine what she said to him. She hated being in the dark. "Say I do this… I don't want you, or anyone else… ganging up on her. I don't want… this," I waved my hand around the room. "…this wasn't her fault. I made these choices."

"No one will gang up on her," he frowned. "Look, she's not my patient. You are. But she needs this as much as you do. One way or the other."

I sighed. I wasn't sure I wasn't making a huge mistake. "Fine," I finally whispered. "Tell her to come."

He nodded. "She'll be here tomorrow afternoon."

Great.

It was the first day I really wondered if I could find a drink.

* * *

My mother had agreed to give us some privacy for the session with Rachel. Greg cleared his calendar and I was told that they would come get me she got here. I had group in the morning. And I spent the early afternoon with one of the other patients who had gone through a similar situation as me. Sometimes she and I would sit in the gardens and listen to the waves crash behind us. It was peaceful.

I liked the silence.

"Ms. Fabray," I heard from beside me. "Dr. Thompson will see you now."

I turned and frowned to Eta. "Here goes nothing."

She smiled softly back. "Child, you've got a chance. That's more than most of us. Take it."

I nodded at her as I followed the nurse inside.

I felt like I was seeing Rachel for the first time. I was terrified.

"They're in there," the nurse ushered.

I stopped outside the door. "I'm not sure I can…"

"Don't back out now, sweetie." She whispered opening the door.

I don't know what I was expecting. I briefly wondered if she would run up to me. Would she slap me? Hug me?

She didn't do any of those things.

"Hi," I whispered, shutting the door behind me.

She was sitting on the couch my mom had occupied the other day. The first thing I noticed was that her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She had on a pair of khaki capri pants and a light pink top. For some reason I found it incredibly strange that she wasn't wearing makeup.

"Hey," she said softly.

I stayed where I was. I wasn't sure where I was supposed to sit. Was I supposed to sit? Every single fiber in my body was telling me to open the door and run the fuck out as fast as I could. If they knew how much I wanted to turn around and go…

I stayed put.

"Come sit down, Quinn," Greg finally said, breaking the silence. He must've noticed my hesitation, because he gestured to the chair across from Rachel.

I knew it was safer. I had to tell my feet to move. I felt like I was walking in quicksand. Or to the gallows. I wasn't sure I could do this.

Greg looked at Rachel expectantly. It was a gesture I knew well. He wanted her to speak. I watched her face and she seemed hesitant. Afraid. She was chewing her lip.

"I.." I started. I didn't want her to feel like she had to do this.

"No," she said, cutting me off. "I should go first. It's what we talked about." She said, looking at Greg.

I nodded for her to continue.

"I'm glad you're here," she finally started. "I was angry that no one told me you were leaving but…" she sighed. "I understand why… and it's good. That you're getting help. I'm proud of you."

"Thank you," I whispered. "I don't know what to… what to say," I stuttered. "I'm sorry for…"

Greg shook his head. "No. No apologies. Not yet." He turned to Rachel. "I'm going to ask Quinn to talk. I want her to explain her reasoning, her feelings, her behavior since Eva's death."

Had he lost his mind? "Uhhh…" I began. "You didn't say…"

He sighed. "What did you think we were going to do, Quinn? You agreed to see her. She deserves to know what you've been feeling. And you deserve the right to tell her."

I scowled at him. I didn't want to hurt her. I told him that yesterday. "I can't," I muttered.

"Why?" She asked, before he could speak.

I fought the overwhelming urge to look away. "Because I don't know if I can say it. I don't know what it will do."

Greg sighed again. "Can I be frank with her, Quinn?"

I raised my eyebrow. "Meaning?"

"We have doctor/patient privileges. I don't want to tell her more than you want me to. I need your permission."

I closed my eyes and tried to hide my exasperation. I waved my hand in the air for him to continue. I suddenly realized we weren't getting out of this room until something happened. And Jesus Christ did I want to be out of this room.

"Do you know what Post Traumatic Stress is Rachel?" He asked her.

I didn't groan out loud, but my mind was going crazy.

"Yes," she answered.

He nodded. "It's my opinion that Quinn's drinking and… well, other behavior was a result of PTSD. Often times the result of a traumatic experience is…" he continued to explain to her what he thought I was suffering from.

I tuned him out and consciously willed him to shut the hell up and let me out of here.

"…will not heal itself," he finished.

She was watching my face. "I didn't know that you could have that. I thought it was for soldiers or…"

He stopped her. "Anyone who has suffered a tragedy like Quinn is susceptible. The problem with PTSD in people like her is that it often goes misdiagnosed until something happens. Or someone is hurt."

She nodded again. She frowned sympathetically at me. "I didn't know…"

"No one expected you to," I said, harsher than I'd intended.

She recoiled physically but didn't answer me.

I could feel the anger at… at something… someone bubbling underneath my surface. I took a few deep breaths to try to control it.

"Tell her," Greg prompted. "Quit swallowing it all down. You've got to start talking at some point. This is only going to get worse. She's agreed to come here and listen to you."

She nodded. "Please tell me." I watched her eyes glisten and felt nauseous.

I shook my head.

"Okay," Greg prompted. "How about this? What's one question you have for Rachel? One thing you want to know. Can you do that at least?"

I wanted to say no. I wanted to scream 'Fuck you!' and run. Instead, I labored my breathing and thought for a few moments. Finally I nodded back. "I guess."

He waved his hand around. "Go on then…"

"I…"

He shook his head. "Not me… Her."

I turned to her instead. She was watching me with wide eyes and I knew she was afraid of what I was about to ask. I almost shook my head again, but he was right… as annoying as that was. "Why did you… everyone… why did you shut me out?" I was barely even whispering.

"I…" she stuttered. "I… I don't know." She frowned sadly. "I don't know. I couldn't think about it."

"Do you know how I felt? I blamed myself. I still do. And no one… No one but Santana even tried to help me. I'd walk into the room and…" I bit back the tears that I was afraid were going to spill. "I just wanted someone to keep me from drowning…" I choked on the last word and looked away.

"I couldn't look at you," she whispered. "I was so angry."

"I know," I finally told her. "I heard you talking to Finn one day about…"

"Oh god," she muttered, and put her head in her hands. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what…" She started crying.

I moved to go to her, but Greg stopped me. I sat back down. He motioned with his head. "Go on," he mouthed.

"When I left that night Brittany said I'd made them chose." I sighed. "I believed her at the time. But…" I hesitated, and she looked at me. "…but I think they choose before. They choose that night. I woke up in the hospital and Santana was the only one there. You were all gone. Even my mother was at the house and not the hospital. No one stayed to…" I started to cry. "And I didn't want to take that from you, because you needed it. But I just… how could you not understand how much I was hurting? Why didn't you ask? I tried so hard to talk to you, Rachel. I just wanted to hold you. Or bury my face against you and bawl. And you wouldn't even look at me. You looked right through me. And when you did… you looked at me like you hated me."

She was openly crying now. I watched her sob into her hands and I wanted more than anything to just get up and make all this go away. "I'm sorry," she gulped.

Greg cleared his throat. "No. This isn't about blame. It's about forgiveness. And how to move on. You have to understand that, Rachel. Quinn wants to get better. And she needs to say this."

"I can't," I said. "I'm not doing this. Look at her!" I spun towards him. "Why would you make me do this to her?"

She swallowed and quickly tried to compose herself after my outburst. "No. No, it's okay. He said you needed to be able to process. I…" she sniffled. "…I need to listen to you, Quinn."

I crossed my arms and sat back. I was not going to make her cry anymore. Not on purpose. "I will not attack her," I growled at him.

He watched my face before speaking. "Is that what you think you're doing?"

"Obviously," I mumbled.

"Why are you protecting her?" He asked.

"Because I fucking love her!" I yelled.

She jumped at my tone.

"Who's protecting you?" He challenged. "Who was protecting you when you were grieving? Drinking? Who's protecting you now?" He put his hands on his desk. "It obviously wasn't you. It's not her. So who is it?"

"No one," Rachel answered for me. "No one did."

He sat back and crossed his arms, giving me a run for my money in intimidating stares. "You can't claim to love someone, Quinn, when you despise yourself."

"Fuck you," I bit back.

He sighed and swiveled his chair around to face Rachel instead. "All this time… after your friends funeral. In St. Thomas… did you understand what you were asking of her?"

She closed her eyes and shook her head. She looked like a chastised child. I wanted to punch him.

"Stop it," I growled at him.

"No," he dismissed me without even giving me a glance. "She has been shouldering the burden of guilt for Eva's death since the night it happened. I want you to tell her the truth, Rachel. Tell her what you told me. Give her something so she doesn't give up. Because you know you can."

She nodded, composing herself once again. She looked me deep into the eyes and held my gaze for a moment before steeling herself to speak. "We blamed you."

I felt like she had kicked me in the stomach. The air left my lungs in a silent gasp and I gulped quickly. "Right…"

She shook her head. "Let me finish. No one ever said anything. We didn't talk about it. But we did. It doesn't make any sense and we were wrong. But we did. You left because I told you to go. Because we all did. And honestly…" here she paused. "Honestly I could breathe again once you were gone."

I closed my eyes before she'd finished speaking. I hated Greg. I wanted out of this room. Out of this clinic. I wanted a drink. I didn't want to see any of them ever again.

"But it wasn't your fault," she whispered. "It wasn't, Quinn. Nothing you did was wrong. I don't blame you anymore. I don't. I love you. I've loved you since senior year of high school. I've been selfish. Horribly selfish. But I just had to…" She gulped again. "I just had to fix me first. I couldn't think about… fixing you. It was too much."

I wasn't looking at her. I heard her get up but I couldn't turn to look at her. She pulled the coffee table closer to me and sat down on it. She took my hands and held them against my knee. "Can you please just look at me?"

I shook my head. I could feel the tracks of tears on my face. They were falling onto my shoulder. She took one of her hands and guided me to face her. I closed my eyes.

"Open you eyes," she pleaded.

It took a moment to stop crying, but I finally did.

"I want you to heal, Quinn. I will do whatever I'm supposed to do to help you. Please let me. And forgive me." She sighed, and ran her fingertips down my cheek. "I need your forgiveness."

"You didn't do anything." I hated how small I sounded.

"You're right," she answered. "I didn't do _anything._ I knew what was happening and I ignored it. I won't anymore."

"Do you still hate me?"

She bit her lip. "I can't hate you. I blamed you. I was angry at you. But I could never, ever hate you."

I nodded at that. I took a breath and fought down the unmitigated fear in my stomach before I finally spoke again. "I need you to help me," I said quietly.

She pulled my forehead down and kissed it before pulling away and staring me in the eye. "I will," she finally said.

It was the first time where I felt I could believe her. I closed my eyes and let out a breath I'd been holding for months now. "That's all I wanted."

"I know," she whispered. She stood up and pulled me against her. I laid my cheek against her stomach. She ran her fingers through my hair and held me tighter. "I know," she whispered again.

I couldn't answer. I just cried softer than I have in a very long time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Okay - the reaction to this story was unexpected. I don't even really know what to say… Thanks. It's gratifying. I know it's not everyone's cup of tea (angst is heavy) but just… wow.**

* * *

Chapter 8

Greg asked Rachel to stay for the next two weeks. Thought most rehab programs lasted twenty-eight days, he wanted to extend my stay. And he wanted to include her and my mother in the treatment.

She said yes, though for some reason I expected her not to. I don't know why I was surprised. If she had been existing in the same type of hell I had been living in, she most likely didn't have anything else pressing to do.

After the first day she was here, I was spent. Physically. Emotionally. My entire body hurt. Though I was afraid of what it would bring, I agreed to meet with them the next morning.

When I got to his office, Rachel was already there. I sat down in the same seat I'd sat in yesterday. It was easier to sit across from her. She smiled softly at me. I quirked my eyebrow back.

"What is it, Quinn?" Greg asked me.

His question caught me off guard. It was strange how well he could read me. I knew it was his job, but… it still left me unsettled.

"Nothing," I finally answered.

"You seem surprised," he countered.

I looked back at Rachel.

"She's used to seeing me more put together," Rachel supplied. "I think she's just surprised by my clothes."

Rachel could read me to. It was different though. But just as unsettling.

I nodded my agreement. "She's not so laidback usually." I liked her in jeans. And t-shirts. I just wasn't used to it.

He seemed to contemplate this. "Does that bother you?" He asked me.

I shrugged. "She can wear what she wants." I just don't recognize this Rachel, I thought but left unsaid.

He seemed to notice my hesitation and must've decided to let it go.

"Let's dig a little deeper today," he started.

I tried, but was unsuccessful, at suppressing my moan.

They both ignored me.

"I want to start with Rachel today," he told us.

I nodded and tried not to look relieved. It wasn't that I wanted to hear what she had to say exactly, but I wasn't sure I could lay myself out there today. Everything was painful.

She frowned though. "I'm not sure I understand?" She asked.

"I want to know what you've been feeling. I would like for you to tell Quinn. I believe you've both been experiencing your grief separately and you need to understand each other's before you experience it together."

I didn't like the sound of that. I didn't want to experience any more grief. Again, I stayed quiet.

"We know that you were angry," he began. "And anger is a facet of grief. Everyone goes through that stage. People need someone to blame. Parents often blame each other. Or themselves," he frowned, catching my eye. "But I want to know about the day to day. How you cope. Because Quinn hasn't been coping. She's been running from all of this. She needs to hear it from your side."

Rachel nodded. I wasn't sure what he was asking her to do, but she seemed to understand him.

"I guess the first thing I felt was shock. I mean, I didn't believe it. I spent the first few weeks feeling like I was in a dream?"

I wasn't sure what she was asking. But Greg seemed to understand that she needed some sort of reassurance, so he nodded.

"Can I back up?" She asked him. He nodded again. "I just want to maybe put this in context. As Quinn can tell you, I can be a little long-winded. I've tried to curb that unfortunate habit but…"

"I don't think either of us have a problem with that," Greg said, looking at me.

I nodded at her. "Say what you want. I'm listening."

She half-smiled back at me. "We aren't married," She said, looking at Greg. When he acknowledged her, she continued. "We were going to get married, but Quinn said we didn't have to be traditional. She said we should do it backwards. She wanted our son or daughter to walk us down the aisle when they were old enough." She smiled softly at that. "So we didn't get married."

"Does that bother you?" He asked.

I watched her face. I wanted to know the answer more than him.

She shook her head finally. "No. It doesn't. It's a silly piece of paper and a silly ceremony. I suppose that's my point. No one could tell me how much I loved her. I knew. I... I just never could believe how lucky I was. When we were younger…" here she trailed off for a moment.

I held my breath.

"…when we were younger, I wasn't what you would call social, at least not in the traditional sense. And Quinn was… well, she was the Queen Bee. Everyone loved her. Everyone was in love with her. I mean look at her…" she gestured with her hand.

I closed my eyes, embarrassed. I was glad no one expected me to speak. Rachel's memory was selective at best.

"Were you?" Greg asked.

She shrugged. "I suppose in my own way. I wasn't sure of my feelings towards her until our senior year of high school. By then I was with someone else…" she stopped speaking again, and I felt my heart skip a beat at the thought of Finn.

"I moved to New York to go to school and Quinn was in Connecticut at Yale. For a few years, we hardly even saw each other. I dated a few people…" she shook her head, "…that's not important. When I got the lead in "Funny Girl" Quinn came to see me opening night. Most of my friends came actually. But I remember thinking 'Quinn Fabray is coming.' And I was terrified. I'd buried everything I'd felt for her so far down that it was almost gone. And then… I just couldn't believe she'd come, you know? She had her own life. She was doing well at Yale, I'd heard. Why come all the way to New York to see me in a show she hated?" She was asking Greg.

He looked at me.

"Why do you think?" I asked. I tried to hide my exasperation. I wasn't sure I'd pulled it off.

"Don't do that," he warned. "Answer her."

"Jesus, Rachel," I sighed. "I wanted to see you. You know I loved you. Even then. I was so happy for you and I wanted to see that. I wanted to see you happy. You know that."

She nodded, and turned to Greg. "I'm sure you'll be surprised to know that I am incredibly insecure." She stated matter-of-factly. I wasn't sure if she was being sarcastic or not.

He didn't answer her.

"I remember telling myself that it was just another night. Just another show. It didn't matter that Quinn was there in the audience. I could do this. I'd sang those songs hundreds of times. I knew every word by heart."

"Did you do well?" He asked.

"She was amazing," I whispered.

She smiled sweetly at that. "After the show we had dinner with my fathers and all my friends. Quinn said she had to get back to New Haven and I remember that feeling… you know… you get when you're stomach bottoms out? I was disappointed but I wasn't sure why. I mean she'd told me how much she enjoyed the show. And she'd flashed that Fabray grin at me. She even brought me flowers…" she smiled at the thought. "But then she was just going to leave. And I thought… 'Oh my god. This is it. If she leaves I'll never see her again.' I might have had a slight penchant for the dramatic. But that's what I was thinking. I knew that was one of those now or never moments."

* * *

_"What time's your train?" Santana asked. _

_I was watching Rachel laugh with Finn as he picked her up and hugged her tightly and shook my head to clear it. "Huh?"_

_"Your train? What time is it?"_

_"Midnight," I answered. "Or whenever. I could probably catch an earlier one."_

_She nodded. "Or a later one?"_

_I hummed my agreement. Why did he think it was okay to actually pick her up when he hugged her? I got she was tiny… whatever… but that didn't mean she was his own person pocket pal. I almost screamed 'Put her the fuck down, moron!' But years of good breeding had taught me not to scream my thoughts out loud._

_"Q?" Brittany asked, breaking me from my revelry again._

_"Yeah?" _

_"You're dumb." She said, taking a sip of whatever she was drinking._

_I spun my head around. Santana cleared her throat as a warning. I got it. Whatever. "Excuse me?" I asked._

_"You're dumb. Rach is like totally over the moon that you're here. And you're like being a background player or whatever." She answered. _

_Sometimes you had to wade through the Britt-speak. "Uh… I don't really know…" I looked to Santana for help but she was just smirking._

_"Like you totally like her. And you have never said anything. That's so weird. How do you keep up with all the stuff you don't think you're supposed to do even though you totally want to? That's got to be super hard."_

_Holy shit. "Brittany I don't know…"_

_She shook her head. "You definitely do. Like I really love when Rach sings. So does San, even if she won't admit it," she said, patting her pouting girlfriend's arm. "But we don't get tears in our eyes or anything. I can see you. And you can't see yourself, so you probably don't know what I'm saying here… but it's like you don't care."_

_I was totally confused now. "Don't care."_

_She nodded. "Yeah. Like about anything. But Rachel. It's like you're at peace or something. That's so cool. Most people never get to feel that, you know? And you do. But you're not doing anything about it. So you're dumb." She finished. She took another drink._

_Santana raised her eyebrow at me. "Like Confucius, isn't she?"_

_I scowled back._

_Was I that transparent? Apparently I was that dumb…_

_I watched Rachel make her way over to us. She looked amazing. She was almost glowing. My heart started beating faster and I plastered on my 'Quinn Fabray, polite but distant' smile I reserved for times like these._

_"I'm so glad you could come," she gushed, pulling me into a hug._

_"You didn't ask me," I observed. _

_She pulled back, frowning. "Should I have?"_

_I shook my head. "No. I just meant… you've always said, 'Quinn I'm going to hug you now.'"_

_She pulled away completely then. "I'm sorry."_

_I tried not to groan at my own frustration. I decided to let it go. "Rachel you were amazing tonight. I am so proud of you. And I'm happy I got to see it."_

_She smiled genuinely. "I can't believe you came," she finally said._

_"Like I would've missed it," I teased. "Besides… I don't want you to forget me when you're all big and famous and I'm…" I frowned slightly. "…doing whatever," I finished lamely._

_"I could never," she whispered so softly I thought I'd heard her wrong._

_"What?"_

_She looked me in the eye then. "I said I could never. Forget you. You're…" She bit her lip and looked away. _

_My stomach flipped. "I'm what?" I asked softly._

_"I was so nervous tonight."_

_"Well you had no reason to be. Like I said, you were amazing." What was she going to say?_

_She shook her head. "No. I mean I was obviously suffering from opening night jitters, as is to be expected. But it was more than that." She still wasn't looking at me._

_"More?"_

_"My heart is beating out of my chest," she confessed. _

_Oh god. "Why?"_

_She turned to meet my eyes then. "I used to believe that I had a heart murmur or worse. Honestly. I thought I was going to die a young, tragic death because of advanced tachycardia."_

_I tried not to let my confusion show. "Heart murmur? Are you okay?" Was she sick?_

_She moaned slightly. "Yes… I'm perfectly well. I didn't mean…" she bit her lip again. "I thought I had a heart defect because my heart raced so much. I could feel it beating in my throat sometimes." She looked away again. "I felt that way tonight."_

_"Nervous about the show?"_

_She shook her head. _

_I put my hand on her upper arm so she would look at me. "What is it Rachel? You're scaring me…"_

_"Am I going to make a fool of myself, Quinn?" She asked. "I don't want to do that."_

_"Please look at me," I whispered. When she acquiesced. I continued. "What is it?"_

_She stared in my eyes for longer than I would normally be comfortable with. But it was Rachel and Rachel was… I caught myself swallowing. I couldn't believe how dry my mouth was all of a sudden._

_"Why did you come?" She finally asked._

_"Why do you think?" I countered._

_She rolled her eyes at my non-answer. "I don't know if I can say it…" She finally said. "I'm always afraid, even now, that I'm going to be the butt of some joke and that if I say the wrong thing…"_

_Now my stomach bottomed out and I realized how much pain I'd caused her when we were younger yet again. "I'm not that person, Rach. I would never…"_

_She nodded. "You make my heart beat faster," she finally breathed out. _

_And she made mine stop._

* * *

"That was the best night of my life," she finished, looking away. "I wasn't sure it could get better. But for some reason it did." She smiled slightly. "Every day with Quinn was like some sort of amazing song I'd just heard for the first time. I didn't know I could love someone that much."

I felt tears brimming in my eyes, but I fought to control them.

"And then Eva…" She sighed, and stopped smiling. "I can't even explain it. It was like I was riding on this high or something. I had absolutely everything I could ever want. I loved them both so much… Everyday that I woke up… it was like I couldn't actually believe that it was my life. Sometimes I caught myself wondering when it was all going to crumble." She looked down.

Greg nodded at her.

"When Eva was born… I couldn't believe how much love I instantly felt for her. When I held her in my arms and looked down at her little body, her sweet face, eyelids so sheer I could see the tiniest of blue veins, the sweet smell of her drifting up to me, I was filled with joy. It was breathtaking. Literally. Quinn gave me something that I would never be able to thank her for… But at the back of my mind there was a little fearful feeling that something could take it all away at any moment."

I gasped for air. "Rachel, I'm…"

"No," she shook her head forcefully. "Please let me finish."

I nodded and bit my lip. I knew I had to let her finish but I wasn't sure I wanted to hear it. I just wanted to apologize. I wanted to apologize until I was out of breath.

"I've spent the last year trying to come to terms with the fairness of it all," she sighed. "Nothing about what happened seemed fair to me. I didn't deserve this. Neither did Eva." She frowned at me. "Neither did Quinn… But… I just… what do you, when the best part of you dies? Because I don't know. I knew what I was doing with Quinn. I knew I was pushing her away. I knew she was hurting and… how can you make yourself care though?" She was crying now.

It was breaking my heart and I fought with myself but ultimately I didn't speak.

Greg nodded, because he knew she wasn't finished.

"I kept waking up in the middle of the night… and it would take me a few moments to realize that it wasn't a dream. That she was really dead. And I thought… god, I replayed everything in my head. I don't know what happened and no one will tell me… Quinn didn't remember and… I wasn't sure I wanted her to… but…" She turned to me then. "Do you think she hurt?" She rushed out painfully. "Did she cry?"

I felt sick. I swallowed down the nausea, but I couldn't speak.

"All I thought about was how bad she must have felt. How scared she must have been. She was a baby," she mumbled through tears. "How is that fucking fair?"

I jumped.

"Tell me… because no one can. How is that fair? I just want someone to explain to me how that's fair. How my life can crumble all around me and everyone else's just moves on." She took a deep, shuddering breath, but she didn't stop crying. "How am I supposed to stop hurting? Because I don't know. I just know that if I ignore it… and I pretend like none of that ever happened, then I can get through the day. It's a horrible day and my heart doesn't rush anymore, but… it's better than this fucking crushing pain in my chest." She finished with a sob.

Greg looked at me and I was happy he'd given me permission.

I stood up and rushed over to her and pulled her to me, even before I sat all the way down. "Do you know I feel the same way?" I whispered against her hair. "Everyday, I relive losing her. And then losing you. I've loved two people in my life and I've lost them both…"

I ignored the tears on my cheeks.

"How can you love me anymore?" She asked quietly. "I'm not even whole."

"No," I whispered. "You're different. But so am I. You give me a reason to live."

"But you wanted to die," she said defiantly. "You said you did."

"Didn't you?"

"I lost or pushed everything I cared about out of my life. I've felt dead for a year now."

It broke my heart all over again.

Greg cleared his throat. We both collected ourselves and turned to look at him. "Do you see what you've done?"

Neither of us spoke.

"You punished yourselves by pushing each other away. Survivor's guilt…" he mused. "You must understand that. It's not your fault that you're still alive. Either of you. You can't blame yourself. And you can't blame each other."

"So what do we do?" She asked him in a tiny voice that made me want to hold her tighter.

"Stop," he said simply.

"How?" I asked him.

"Well, that's what we're here to figure out. But this…" he waved his arm at us. "This is a start. We continue this. And when you leave… wherever you go… alone or together… you still continue this. Can you do that?"

I pulled away from her softly and raised my eyebrow. She nodded at me.

"Yes," I said. "I think we can."

I wasn't sure what I was committing to… but I knew I wanted to try. I needed to try.

That was enough.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

_"Does it feel weird?"_

_"Does what feel weird?"_

_"Being pregnant?" I asked. _

_She studied my face. She did that when she didn't know what I was asking. "As opposed to what?"_

_I tried really hard not to roll my eyes. Sadly it was almost instinctual. I gave myself props for effort. "As opposed to not being pregnant."_

_She didn't look up from the magazine she was reading. "It's different." She mused. _

_Mother of all that was holy. "Well, no kidding Rachel. I would've never assumed..."_

_She did look up at that. "Why the sudden interest?"_

_"Cause you're all round now. I just wonder if you center of gravity feels…"_

_At that she threw the magazine down. "I'm 'all round now?' Is that really what you're going with, Quinn Fabray? Because that's a dangerous hole to dig," she interrupted._

_Granted, I probably shouldn't have said 'all round.' But I really wanted to know. "You look fine, sweetie. I didn't mean..."_

_"Fine? Are you kidding me right now? I look fine. Fine… Okay. Well that is the nicest compliment I've been paid absolutely never." _

_I prayed to a god I wasn't sure I believed in to give me some sort of strength. And possibly a filter. "Amazing. Beautiful. Glowing."_

_"It's called sweat," she huffed. "I'm glowing because I'm sweating. It's hotter than eight hells in this house."_

_Do not roll your eyes. Do not do it._

_"Stop rolling your eyes at me!" _

_Damn it. I decided to take a deep breath and try again. "Okay. You're right. About everything. I just wanted to know what it felt like."_

_She smiled softly at that. "Different. But good. It feels amazing. When she kicks I… I can't explain it. I love it," she said quietly, rubbing her stomach. "Why?"_

_"Just wondering…" I answered._

* * *

When I was in college, I took a few philosophy classes. Don't ask me why, but for some reason the question of my earthly existence was extremely important to me at the time.

I remember studying the sophists. At the risk of sounding boring, they basically believed that the only thing that could truly be proven to exist was one's own mind. Because everything you experienced, no matter what it was… pain or pleasure… you experienced it alone. You would never, no matter how hard you tried, be able to experience anyone else's emotions, reactions, etc.

It honestly was a depressing philosophy to live by. How selfish is it to believe you are the only person to exist and that everything in your existence besides you is suspect to your beliefs? I found it incredibly lonely. Disturbingly lonely.

I didn't realize how much sense it actually made.

I understood my grief. It had become a constant companion. Followed closely by guilt. But… everyone else's I didn't understand. It was selfish, but so is life.

* * *

We spent the next week meeting with Greg. In some ways it was getting easier. In some – harder. It just depended on what I focused on. I wasn't sure if talking about Eva was better than not talking about her. When he dug deeper or whatever he called it, it was almost worse. Because we had to face things we'd never even really talked about.

Today was a "Quinn" day. I didn't like them at all. But I said I would try and I meant it.

"What are you most angry about?" Greg asked.

What a loaded question. Both my mother and Rachel were here today. I avoided looking at them.

"Isn't that something we should discuss in private?" I asked him.

He didn't bite.

I moaned inwardly. "Isn't that obvious?" I asked.

He looked at Rachel. "Is it?"

She shrugged. "Quinn's always seemed angry about everything to be quite frank."

Oh really? Please be frank, Rachel. I sighed. "I'm obviously angry that my daughter is dead, Gregory."

My mother shuddered and Rachel bit her lip.

"Do you often do this?" He asked. "Slip into intimidation?"

"When the need arises," I answered.

"Be more concrete," he offered, off-handedly. "

"I assume you don't want to be here until tomorrow," I quipped. "I'm not sure I can give you a list, Greg. I'm just angry."

"Okay," he ventured. "So qualify it. Who are you angry with?"

I sat back and huffed, crossing my arms. "Myself."

Rachel was squirming in her seat.

"Do you have something to say?" Greg asked her.

She nodded. "She's lying. Or not lying, but… she's angry at me. At us," she gestured between my mom and her. "I can always tell when she's lying."

I rolled my eyes. "She's wrong."

"Quinnie," my mother started, hesitatingly. "You have to be honest with us. We want to help you."

"Really? Because I am pretty sure you don't want to hear what I have to say, Mom."

She sighed dramatically. "I wouldn't have spoken up if I didn't want to hear you, honey."

Rachel nodded her agreement. I felt like they were ganging up on me. I got that caged animal feeling I often got when that happened. I stood up. I needed to move. No one said anything as I started pacing.

"Well besides the obvious… I guess just everyone. I don't know what you want to hear."

"The truth," Greg said. "That would be a start."

He was a smartass. Some days, I hated him.

"To be honest, the only person I'm not angry at is Santana. I suppose that's ironic, but… there it is." I finally answered. "We've been through all this," I supplied. "I don't want to do it again."

"So what are your plans then?" He asked, changing topics so abruptly I stopped walking.

"Excuse me?"

"After you leave here what are you plans? If you're angry at everyone… where are you going to go? What are you going to do? Have you thought about that? Because you can't go back to Seattle." He sat back in his chair. "But you know that."

To be honest, I had thought about that. I wasn't sure where I could go. Before everything happened, I'd worked as Rachel's manager. I sighed. "I have no idea."

"Your job… from before… do you want to do that again?" He asked.

"I don't know," I watched Rachel's face as I answered. I was standing on the other side of the room.

She bit her lip and looked away.

"You have a degree in English?" Greg asked me.

I nodded.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you have a degree in English?" He asked. "What did you want to do?"

I sat down finally. "Nothing. It's stupid…"

He quirked his eyebrow.

"I wanted to write," I whispered.

"So why didn't you?"

I shrugged. "Not enough life experience? I don't know."

He nodded at that. "Not really lacking that now, are you?"

I shook my head. "I guess not."

He seemed to be thinking for a moment, so I chanced a glance at my mom and Rachel. They were staring at each other, like they were communicating. It was weird. I'd always thought their relationship was weird. I wasn't jealous… I loved that my mom loved her… it was just always so strange.

He turned to Rachel suddenly. "What do you want?"

She seemed shocked by that. "I don't know what you're asking."

He shook his head. "Oh, I think you do. What do you want?"

She closed her eyes like she did when she was getting a headache. I wasn't sure I could hear what she would say but I was trying. My new motto. Try, try, try.

"I would honestly just like for everything to be normal again." She was staring at her hands.

"Hhmph," I hummed.

Three sets of eyes followed me.

"Something you want to say?" She challenged.

Not particularly, but whatever. She asked so..."That's not really realistic, is it?" I tried. "Normal? How the hell can things be normal again?" I crossed my arms. "That's always been her problem. She wore those damn rose-colored glasses. She thought she could just wish things better. Jesus Christ, if you could… I'd be a hell of a lot better off than I am."

She bit her lip to keep from crying. I felt guilty but…

"Look," I started, obviously on some sort of roll. "I don't really know what I want. I want to be less sad. Less drunk, obviously. Less dumb. But I'm not delusional. I know that happy is something that is way too far out of my grasp at the present moment. I'm just trying to be realistic here… she can't wish for normal. That's insane."

Rachel was getting angry. She crossed her own arms and stared me down. "How do you know what is going to happen?" She turned to Greg. "She always does this. Say something she doesn't want to hear and she starts in on her lecture of self-righteous. Only Quinn Fabray knows how it's going to play out. Because no one is as smart as Quinn. So she walks around spouting her 'glass half-empty' philosophy and she expects us to just agree with her. It's maddening."

"Rachel, if I didn't keep you grounded…" I stop speaking and collected myself. "You needed someone to keep you in check. You're blinded by your ambition sometimes and you don't see the damn forests for all the little singing trees."

"Quinn," my mother chastised.

I shrugged again. "It's true. Rachel's dreams control everyone around her. We are just caught in her fantasy. Along for the ride."

Greg was watching the exchange. Before she could respond, he held up his hand and looked at me. "So why do you love her?"

It stopped me in my tracks.

"What?" I asked.

"You're complete opposites. Why do you love her?"

I deflated and closed my eyes.

* * *

_I felt like a truck had landed on my chest. Or driven out of my chest. I could not move without wincing. I wondered if I was dying? I was going to welcome it. Anything to escape this. Even the sheets hurt._

_"Quinn," Rachel called me from the bedroom door. "We have to go in an a few hours. Everyone is up and ready and you're still asleep. Get up," she whined._

_A few weeks ago, Patti Lupone announced her return to Broadway. Her director – Rachel's friend. He'd given all of us tickets to the matinée and today Rachel was going to get to meet one of her idols. She'd been talking about it for days. The show wasn't for another four hours, but Rachel was… well, Rachel._

_I knew I was sick. Based on the fact that I couldn't move without wanting to scream and that my clothes hurt when they brushed against my freaking skin, I figured it was the flu. I wondered if the gods really were just sitting on some magic thrones in the sky laughing their holy asses off at me. _

_There was absolutely no way I couldn't go. None. I would not ruin this for her. She was like a little kid about to meet a Disney princess or something. I didn't have a metaphor adequate enough to describe it honestly, because it hurt my brain to think._

_I slowly slid the sheet off my body and was proud of the fact I didn't wince. "I'm sorry. I guess I didn't realize the time," I grunted. _

_"It's okay, silly," she trilled. "I'm just so excited!" She bounced over to the bed and plopped down._

_And holy shit… I had to hold my breath. Honestly, I felt like I was going to cry. I actually had to consciously tell myself to sit up. I did it slowly but tried to look normal to keep her from noticing. She was so caught up in her excitement, she missed it._

_"Just let me take a shower," I muttered, throwing my legs off the bed. When the air hit my body I almost shivered. I was freezing. _

_"Okay! But please hurry. It's bad manners to be late to meet a star," she mused. She was bouncing, which was a good reason for me to stand up._

_"You've mentioned," I muttered, aiming my body towards the bathroom._

_As soon as I put one foot in front of the other like I had been doing for the vast majority of my life mind you, it was like I completely forgot how to walk. My legs just stopped working. They turned to jelly and I started falling. It was really not that slow, but it felt like I was never going to hit the ground…_

_…And I didn't. She caught me around my waist._

_"Oh my god!" She squealed. "What's wrong, baby?"_

_I tried to pull away from her, but I needed her to hold me up. I felt so damn selfish. "Just a little lightheaded," I tried. "I'm good."_

_She gasped. "You are burning up." She laid the back of her hand against my head. "Oh my Barbra," she muttered, clearly frustrated. She led me back to the bed._

_I didn't have the energy to argue with her. "Maybe if I just lay back down for a few minutes," I muttered. Maybe if someone hit me in the head with a large mallet… _

_"Stay here," she said, rushing off._

_I didn't say anything because it hurt to talk but I was definitely thinking about how I couldn't fucking move, so there was really no problem there._

_She ran back in moments later with a thermometer, placing it under my tongue. She hummed while she waited for it to beep. "One hundred and two." She studied my face. "Symptoms?"_

_"Fever?" I croaked out._

_She gave me the exasperated look. "And?"_

_"Sore throat. Headache. General feeling of being beaten by a sledgehammer." I mumbled. " Extreme death wish."_

_"You have the flu, Quinn!" She squealed. "I knew you didn't get your shot!"_

_"I was going to," I murmured. _

_She rolled her eyes. "You are infuriating. The flu is awful, baby. Or so I've heard," she mused. "I wouldn't really know seeing as I always get my shot. But…" She sat down more gingerly on the bed this time. "Go to sleep, baby. I'm sorry you're sick."_

_I nodded. "I'm sorry I can't go with you," I said, closing my eyes. "I love to see you happy."_

_"Mmm-hmm," she muttered, ignoring me. _

_I wasn't sure what she said after that because I fell asleep._

_When I woke, it was after two. I briefly wondered about how much fun Rachel was having right now, and then I tried to roll over and realized I didn't care. I just wanted something to make me stop hurting so I could go back to sleep. Or a train to barrel through the bedroom and run me over. _

_"We can be there in a few hours," I heard. "I just don't want to get her out if I don't have to. She's been moaning in her sleep. Isn't there something you can call in?"_

_I opened one eye. It was definitely Rachel's voice. "Rachel," I screeched as harshly as I could. "Why are you here?!"_

_She raised her hand at me, dismissing my question. "I do realize you would have to diagnose her, but I don't think you realize that any person with two eyes and ears could deduce that she has the flu. If you could just call and have the medicine prescribed, my friends could pick it up on their way home. Or I could have the pharmacy deliver it. Thus saving us both unnecessary aggravation."_

_She'd skipped the show. I felt like I was going to vomit. "Rachel, please tell me you didn't…"_

_She waved me off again. She put her hand on her hip. I didn't know who she was talking to but I felt really sorry for them all of a sudden. "Absolutely not," she reprimanded. "I am quite capable of getting her in the car. What an absurd question to ask... I realize you know who I am… Short? Are you serious right now? I could pick her up easily… I've had years of training…" I couldn't believe whomever she was talking to had the gall to call her short. They were in for it now. "I'll have you know that my reservations stem only from concern for Quinn's wellbeing. Not my ability or lack thereof to transport her. I have never… I am highly educated and observant. She has the flu. There is medicine for that. My pharmacy can deliver it. If you could be so kind as to call that in for me… then we could avoid having this exact same conversation again… in person."_

_Rachel – one. Poor doctor on the phone – zero. People could argue she wasn't self-aware. But boy would they be wrong._

_"Right," she said, satisfied with herself. "I'll call them and let them know where to deliver it. Thank you so much, Doctor Knight. I appreciate it." She said in her sugary sweet, and yes… completely genuine voice, hanging up._

_"Rachel."_

_She spun around. "Can you believe the nerve of that man? I've never… I am not an idiot, Quinn Fabray. You obviously have the flu. It's not like I was asking him to call in a prescription for morphine for goodness sakes."_

_"Rachel..." _

_"It's Tamiflu. And another thing… who in their right mind would call for a prescription for a drug they didn't need if it has no narcotic effects? As if I have nothing better to do with my time. That's like me calling in a request for high blood pressure medicine. He acted as if I was going to sell it on the street or something equally nefarious. I can only suppose the lines are infinitely long at the rehabilitation clinic for Tamiflu addicts. I've never been so insulted in all my…"_

_"Rachel!"_

_"What?!" She asked as if she'd just noticed me. "Oh goodness. Are you okay? Do you need something? Fluids? A bath? New clothes? You were sweating in those earlier. Would you like me to turn the television on… what do you…"_

_"Rachel Berry!" I yelled. When I was certain she wasn't going to speak, I continued. "Why are you here?"_

_"Huh?" She asked. She looked confused._

_"Patti Lupone?" I prompted. "One of 'the reasons I exist, Quinn Fabray,' Patti Lupone?"_

_"What about her?"_

_She was infuriating._

_"Uh just that you were supposed to meet her…" I was not equipped for twenty questions today. _

_She waved her had dismissively. "Oh, Kurt will get plenty of pictures. Don't worry."_

_"Rachel…" I started._

_"What?" She still looked confused._

_"You cannot be kidding me. You've talked about this all week. All week. 'Patti this and Patti that. Do you think Patti will like my hair? What do you think Patti's favorite color is; I've got to get a new dress? I wonder if Patti will sing with me?'" I tried to mimic her even with my sore throat._

_She put both her hands on her hips. "Okay, well first of all I sound absolutely nothing like that. That's insulting. You made me sound nasally. You know how I feel about my nose. I am a trained vocalist and to think that I sound nasally is…"_

_I threw my head back on the pillow. And holy shit that hurt. "Rachel… seriously…"_

_"What?" She asked, hands still on her hips._

_"Why are you here?!"_

_"Are you deficient? Where else would I be?" She asked, genuinely concerned for my wellbeing at this point._

_"At Patti Lupone's freakin' Broadway show," I answered._

_"You're sick," she offered matter-of-factly, as if that answered everything._

_"So…"_

_"So," she said, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes. "So, I love you. And you're sick. I don't care who is performing, who I'm supposed to meet… I don't care if they were going to offer me a duet with Barbra, herself…"_

_I quirked my eyebrow._

_"Well, okay… I might be a little miffed about that one." She sat down on the bed gently. "Quinn, I love you. More than anyone else in the world. If you're sick, I am going to take care of you."_

_"Yeah, but you wanted…"_

_She shook her head. "Baby, I wanted to be here." She put her hand on my forehead again. "I'm going to call the pharmacy and have them deliver your medication. And then I'm going to get you some juice. And then I'm going to sit here and pet your head until you go to sleep." She smiled sweetly at me. She bent over and kissed my cheek. "I don't like when you're sick. So I insist you get better. It makes my tummy hurt."_

_"I love you," I muttered, closing my eyes as she ran her fingers through my hair. "So, so much."_

_"Ditto," she said softly._

* * *

"Why do you love her?" Greg had asked me.

Why indeed. I felt my walls crumble again. I kept building them up and… we kept breaking them down.

"I love her because she's…" I shook my head. "I love her because she's Rachel. Look at her." I looked to her instead. "I want to be here. Or there. Wherever you are. That's what I want and where I want to be. I want to make things normal again."

She and my mom were both crying softly after my story. She wiped her eyes, nodding.

Greg smiled softly. "You're almost ready to go, Quinn. You've accomplished what you set out to do here – you've stopped drinking. That's not to say that you don't need more healing… both of you," he said, looking at Rachel. "But I can suggest a great therapist in New York, if that's where you plan to go?"

I caught her eye. "Is it?"

She bit her lip and nodded.

"And you want me to go with you?" I cursed the raw need in my voice.

She nodded again. "Yes."

"And no Hope?" It was a deal breaker.

She shook her head. "No Hope. She's gone. I mean, I guess she's still in New York but… I don't know where. I just wanted to…" She frowned. "I want you to go back with me."

I nodded back to her. "I'm not sure how to deal with the others..."

Greg interrupted there. "Let's cross that bridge when we come to it. Baby steps. I'm not suggesting you jump into each other's bed again…" My mother and Rachel blushed. I assumed based on the heat of my skin, I was blushing harder. "…Quinn most likely will need her own room…"

Rachel frowned but agreed. "Okay."

"And you need to make the others understand what is occurring." He supplied.

"They already know. Everyone is supportive. They just want her to come home."

I wasn't sure if I believed that, but she definitely did.

"Your fathers and I would like to stay for a while," my mother spoke up. "Just to help around the house. Help you get better," she said, looking between us.

I shrugged. I could hardly contain my excitement at seeing Leroy again.

"Of course," Rachel smiled at her.

"So you agree?" Greg asked me. "Can you stay in the house with them? Not together… not yet… but… can you do that?"

I finally nodded. "I think so…"

"You have to know so."

I thought about that for a moment. Could I? I wanted to. _Try, try, try._ "Yes. Yes I want to. I can."

"Okay. We have to process everything. Work out your sessions, etcetera in New York. But if all goes well… day after tomorrow?"

I wanted to squeal. I didn't realize until that very moment how much I wanted to be out of here. I nodded instead. "Cool," I offered.

"Indeed," he answered.

Rachel was smiling at me. I hadn't seen that smile in quite some time. She was proud of me. I forgot what that was like.

Maybe normal wasn't attainable.

But with a smile like that… a normal smile… maybe it could be.

I sure the hell hoped so.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

_"I'm sorry, but can you repeat that? I'm almost certain I didn't hear you correctly."_

_"Leroy," Hiram warned. _

_"No, no." He crossed his arms and turned to Rachel. "What did you say?"_

_This was a bad fucking idea. Like seriously bad. On the scale of bad ideas we'd had, together and apart, telling our parents that Christmas after we'd just started dating that we were a couple was like tip the scales bad._

_"I'm reasonably certain you heard me, Daddy," Rachel challenged._

_I chanced a look at my mom. She was staring at her hands. She knew I was gay. It wasn't a shock for her, but… I also knew she was uncomfortable. I couldn't expect miracles._

_"And I'm rather certain you said you and Ms. Fabray here are a couple." He challenged back. _

_Rachel crossed her arms defiantly. "I find it rather ironic that you have a problem with me being in a same-sex relationship. And disappointing," she added._

_ "Well then you're misunderstanding me. Because I'm not disappointed that you are in a relationship with another woman." He turned to me but then suddenly addressed my mom instead. "Mrs. Fabray, I'm going to apologize in advance if I offend you. It's not my intention."_

_"Daddy…" Rachel warned._

_"Leroy," her father joined in. _

_I was looking for somewhere to hide or for a time machine so I could go back in time and smack Rachel in the back of her head when she suggested this little reveal._

_I found myself looking at my mom, who waved her hand dismissively. "By all means…" She answered. _

_Fucking lovely._

_Fuck it. "Yes," I spoke for the first time. "By all means."_

_"Do you find this funny?" He asked me._

_I had to admit he was intimidating. But so was I when I wanted to be._

_"I'm not sure how you gathered that. I'm obviously not laughing." I crossed my arms and held his stare. "Please continue."_

_"I'm just wondering what exactly you will gain from this?" He asked, eyeing me. "Now that you're certain Rachel will be successful… is that what's driving it? How far will you go to humiliate her?"_

_"Daddy!" She screamed. "That is unacceptable behavior and I will not have you…"_

_"No Rachel!" He yelled back. "You don't understand! You are just now able to…"_

_"Leroy please…" Hiram pleaded._

_"How can you be okay with this? You know that she…" He asked his husband._

_"Why can't you just listen to me?" Rachel's voice rose. I noticed the hysteric. "You're embarrassing me. Not to mention yourself and…"_

_"Embarrassing you?!" Leroy countered. "Well excuse me for being worried…"_

_"Leroy!"_

_Everyone was talking over each other and yelling and I could feel the familiar push to run the hell out of there. _

_I missed the person who cleared their throat the first time._

_"Excuse me," my mother said. "Excuse me," she said again more forcefully. _

_Everyone stopped talking and turned to her. _

_"If I may?" She asked, quietly._

_They all three nodded at her. _

_"Thank you," she said. She was the only one not standing. She actually stared at us until we all sat down. She nodded when everyone did. "I would like to say that I understand your reservations, Mr. Berry. I have no doubt they are not unfounded. Quinn was not what I would call kind to Rachel."_

_"Understatement," Leroy muttered._

_"Be that as it may, I believe I may have some insight into things that you are not privy to. If I might?"_

_They nodded at her._

_"In our family, Quinn was taught from an early age to hide her feelings. Fabrays did not show emotion. Not in public. It was a weakness." She turned to frown at me, before turning back to them. "Unfortunately, Quinnie here is a highly emotional person…"_

_"Mom," I warned. "Don't…"_

_"Oh, I think I will. Please be patient. I realize you lack that trait normally but…" She shook her head, directing her attention back to Rachel's father. "What Rachel saw… at least at first was Quinn hiding those emotions. And emulating her father, sadly. Until it got to be… well too much. Let's just leave it at that… When she told us she was homosexual," she said, the word clearly foreign on her lips, "… well, I wasn't what you could call exactly surprised. So many pieces fell into place." She sighed and smiled at them. Ever the picture of manners. "To be honest… I could really give a damn…" I hid my shock at that statement. "But Russell… he was an idiot. And gone, thank god." She shook her head again. This time to clear it. "The first time I ever saw my daughter's heart actually broken was one day I will never forget…"_

_Holy shit. No way. "Mom, please don't…" I begged._

_"I certainly will, Quinnie," she said, not even bothering to look at me. "I'd gone out of town to visit my mother for the weekend. When I came home, I found Quinn lying on the couch, still in her pajamas. After lunch…" She shuddered, as if I'd committed some heinous crime instead of not showering that morning. _

_I closed my eyes._

_"When I asked her what was wrong… she started crying… I had seen Quinnie cry only a handful of times since she was six years old. So you can only imagine my shock. She finally was able to tell me…"_

_"Mom I am honestly begging here…"_

_"Quinn, let her speak," Rachel interrupted._

_I rolled my eyes._

_"Thank you, dear," my mom smiled at her. "She asked me how it was possible to love someone so much that it physically hurt." She frowned again. "I told her I had no idea. And then she responded… and I remember it so clearly… 'every time she sings, I just want to kiss her.'" She smiled slightly. "She'd never spoken about anyone like that before." She looked sadly at me this time. "And before I could tell her I was happy for her…" she looked away for a moment before steeling herself and turning back to us. "…she said, 'do you think I'll always be in love with someone I don't deserve?"_

_I gulped and looked away. My mother and her moments of empathy… What the hell was she thinking?_

_"Please understand, gentlemen, how rare of a moment that was… We did not discuss such things in our household. My heart broke for her that night because I was unsure if I could negate her fears," She smiled at Rachel then. "And then this… I see why Quinn is so in love with her. And why she always has been. She's a perfect young woman and the two of you have done a marvelous job." She turned her attention to me for a moment. "I've made many mistakes in my day, but…" She looked back at them. "I would like to think Quinn wasn't one of them. I'm very proud of her."_

_I was stunned. Honestly. I almost asked if it was possible that someone had kidnapped my mother and replaced her with a pod person. Or if she had a brain tumor. I wasn't sure whom this woman was sitting here holding court with Rachel Berry's terrifying father._

_"So," she finally said, clearing her throat to get our attention. "I would ask you, with all due respect, Mr. Berry, to please not insult my daughter in my presence ever again. We all have our faults. And as the good book teaches us, 'Judge not, lest ye be judged.' I think we can all agree, regardless of our religious beliefs…" she caught my eye, "…or recent lack thereof… that it's sound advice." _

_She stood up abruptly and turned to Rachel. "I am so glad you have come into our lives, Rachel. And thankful. Thankful is a more appropriate word. However, I will not be a party to my daughter's humiliation. So I must respectfully take my leave." She turned to me. "Quinn?"_

_I shook myself out of my stupor. She expected me to follow her out. I really didn't have a choice. Rachel could execute a diva storm off like a pro. But no one could leave a speechless room as gracefully as Judy Fabray._

_I nodded and followed._

* * *

After my mother's abrupt departure that day, Rachel's father was nothing but kind. And it took more time than I'd like to admit… but he warmed to me. I wasn't sure I would ever call our relationship loving (it was nothing like Rachel and my mother), and though I respected him tremendously and how much he loved Rachel, I never thought it would be.

After my release from the clinic, which took a few days… well, I was ready to leave. But I was definitely not ready for what was waiting for me in New York.

"Quinnie," my mother whispered beside me. "I know you are nervous, but I wish you'd stop shaking your legs like that. It's not ladylike."

My mother and her social decorum. I almost told her where she could stick her "ladylike" but I figured now was not the time.

We were on the airplane.

For whatever reason, Rachel had bought four seats, so that she could sit by herself. Or my mom could… or I could. I wasn't sure. I just realized I was so nervous that my mother sat down beside me as soon as we boarded.

Rachel turned around and peered through the seats. "Would you like to swap seats, Judy?" She asked, studying me.

My mom shook her head. "No dear. I'm fine. She's just jittery."

Motherfucking understatement. I was nervous as hell. I hadn't been out of that clinic in over five weeks. I was afraid I would end up in New York, just to get off the plane and find Leroy ready to shoot me in the heart. I absolutely didn't put it past him.

"Your father is going to kill me," I finally muttered. I was going with the whole honesty thing. I wasn't sure how that was going to work out for me.

She rolled her eyes, catching my mother's gaze. "I'd like to see him try," she huffed.

I almost spoke again, but the flight attendant stopped by our seats. "Can I get you anything?"

"No!" My mother and Rachel both blurted out as I nodded.

"Water," I smiled softly. I turned between them. "Seriously?!"

"Sorry," Rachel muttered.

"Yes, I'm sorry too," my mom frowned.

So I guess we were all nervous.

* * *

I tried to sleep on the plane, if only to assuage my nerves. Rachel assured me her father wasn't going to be at the airport with a cadre of FBI agents looking to hogtie me and transport me to Guantanamo.

"Quinn, that is the most ridiculous scenario you could have fabricated. Of course he's not. Don't be ridiculous. I'm not sure Guantanamo Bay is even in operation anymore. So obviously he couldn't transport you there." She grinned at her logic. "So see? Nothing to worry about."

It never failed to amaze me that she thought her fallacious lines of reasoning were reassuring.

My mother agreed. "Rachel's right. You're being a bit dramatic."

Oh my god. Seriously… dramatic? I forgot how much alike they were. I realized I could never take a drink again. Every single time they said something stupid and the other one agreed… I was just going to have to nod and accept it. I may have set myself up for more than was conceivably possible.

My mom was reading a book… I couldn't see who wrote it. There was a time when I would have been interested in the fact she was reading. Now, I was distracted by the butterflies beginning to flutter in my stomach.

"What if I can't do this?"

Rachel spun around quickly because she had bat-like hearing apparently, and quirked her eyebrow at my mother, who nodded and stood silently. See? Silent communication. I sometimes found myself wondering if they practiced that when I wasn't around just to freak me out.

Rach sat down beside me. "Quinn, I am so happy you're going back to New York with me. The city has felt so empty without you. I want you know how much it means to me."

I nodded, distracted. "I'm serious. What if I can't do this? I want to… but I'm not the strong one…"

I heard my mother huff, but ignored it.

"Then who is?" Rachel asked.

"What?"

"If you aren't the strong one, who is?" She was giving me her stunning smile and it made my stomach jump. "I'm counting on you to get me through the hard parts. And you can count on me. And then we can count on each other." She nodded, completely oblivious to her circular reasoning.

"In separate beds," my mother trilled from the seat in front of us.

We both rolled our eyes at that.

"In separate beds," Rachel added, mostly for Jude's benefit.

* * *

True to their word, no one was at the airport waiting on us. I breathed a sigh of relief as we got into the cab.

"See, Miss Paranoid," Rachel smiled. "I told you, you were going to be fine."

I nodded. Now I just had to make it to the house, walk to my "new" bedroom and hide for the next three months. Hopefully by then, everyone would forget I was there.

When we pulled up to the house, I held my breath. "I wasn't sure I'd ever be walking in this house again," I muttered, grabbing our bags out of the trunk.

Both Rachel and my mother nodded. I noticed they were distracted.

"What's going on?" I asked.

Rachel shook her head. "Nothing. Come one," she smiled, opening the door.

I stopped on the stoop and studied their faces. I wasn't sure what they were hiding, but I realized it was now or never, so I silently followed them inside.

As soon as my mother shut the door, I heard voices. Several voices. All in the same room.

"Oh hell no," I said. "Tell me they are not all in there waiting for us," I asked both of them.

"Quinn," Rachel started, "Greg thought that…"

I tried to push passed her. "Greg is a moron."

"I take offense to that, Quinn," I heard, from the other room. My eyebrow shot up.

"Video conference," Rachel frowned. "He thought it would be a good idea if we…"

"Oh he did, did he?" I asked, busting into the living room. Every single one of them was in there. I ignored them all and turned to the screen in the middle of the room. "You didn't think to tell me that I was walking into a viper's nest, Gregory?"

I could see him rolling his eyes. I really thought about getting back on a plane just so I could go down there and slap the hell out of him.

"Ten minutes," he started. "And then you can run. But I'm asking you to hear them out. Just ten minutes. I knew you wouldn't be able to stay there unless your animosity was resolved. Can you give yourself ten minutes?"

I crossed my arms and huffed. I moved to stand against the far wall away from all of them. Everyone was in there. Britt and San. Mercedes and Sam. Kurt and Blaine. Puck. Rach's fathers.

"Why do I feel like this is a fucking intervention?" I growled out.

"It's not," Greg said.

"No, it's the opposite of that," Brittany offered, smiling. "It's like a…"

"Quinnervention," Puck supplied, completely proud of his moronic self.

"I don't give a damn what you call it," I grumbled. "I don't want it. I stopped drinking. So you can save your guilt trips for when I fuck up."

"And do you think you're going to?" Greg asked, in that therapist voice he has.

"Well I wasn't planning on it," I mumbled. "But I wasn't planning on this bullshit either." I finished. Quinnervention. I couldn't believe the nerve of this man. I knew I should have asked to see his diploma.

"Greg," Rachel said. "Maybe this wasn't…"

"Nah, fuck that," Santana interrupted. She caught my mom's eye. "Excuse my language, Judes… but seriously, fuck that."

My mom frowned but nodded just the same.

"Et tu, Santana?" I asked. Seriously…

"Would you listen, Q? No one is ganging up on you." She sighed. "If you'd just…"

"No one is ganging up on me? What the hell do you call this?" I asked.

Sam frowned. "We want to apologize."

Hiram nodded. "We do."

Most of the rest of them nodded their agreement as well.

"Well thanks. Apologies noted." I turned to Rachel. "Now where's my bedroom?"

"Motto, Quinn?" Greg's voice interrupted me.

How about you go fuck yourself, Gregory? I thought and was very close to voicing. And then I caught Rachel's frown.

"Ten minutes," I mumbled. I ignored the collective sigh of relief from half the room.

"So who's going to start?" Greg asked.

"Me," Santana answered.

"Good," Greg started. "If you would like to…"

"Greg, that's Santana. She's…"

"I've met them all, Rachel."

"I know. But you can't see them. I assumed if I narrated then you would be able to…"

"I can tell their voices apart," he said.

"Well now I feel useless," she huffed.

Holy shit. I couldn't believe I'd stopped drinking.

Santana was watching Rachel with a look of bewilderment. "Anyway," she started again, "I'm starting because, well… I'm fucking Santana Lopez."

I saw my mother wince.

San ignored that. "We fucked up. I know we've said that, but I am not sure you believed how much we regret it."

I shook my head. "You didn't. You…"

"Didn't come get you? Even though I knew where you were?" She asked. "I knew what you were going through… what you were doing… I should've been… I'm sorry, Q. I should've had your back. First and foremost. I fucked up. And I'm sorry. I've missed you like crazy and it's been…" she looked around the room, "no offense to anyone here or anything, but… it's been a little boring without you here. Okay, fuck it… a lot boring. I mean you're my best friend. It finally feels good to say, you know? Hi. My name is Santana Lopez, and Quinn Fabray is my best friend. It's cathartic." She smirked at me.

I tried not to roll my eyes. Good to see her sarcasm was still intact. Guess I sort of missed it. "Look San, I know that Brittany comes first and I know that Brittany was… concerned about Rachel. I've never been angry with you. You tried to help me. I get it."

She shook her head. "No you don't. Let me apologize, ho. You're killing me here."

I smiled softly at her. "By all means… apologize away. Again."

"So yeah… sorry and shit. You're my girl."

I raised my eyebrow. "Seriously? That's it?"

"Are you kidding me? That was like a years worth of lovin there, Fabray. Damn." She grimaced. "Fine… I like sorta, kinda, you know… like you a lot or whatever."

It was far more than I expected. "Ditto," I smiled.

"Oh hell, don't get sappy…"

Brittany was bouncing up and down, her hand in the air. "Permission to speak, little dude in the computer?"

I saw the puzzled look on his face. He was probably wondering why I just drank and didn't partake in other recreational activities after living with these people… I wanted to get in his face on the computer and say I told you so.

"You don't have to ask for permission, Brittany," Rachel smiled sweetly. "You can speak."

B looked at me. "Can I?"

I waved my arm in the air.

"I totally was wrong, Q. I'm sorry for everything. I was just hurting and then Rachel was sad… and you don't like for people to see you sad, but she doesn't care and…" She took a breath. "I'm embarrassed because I knew it was wrong. I just wanted Rach to not hurt anymore. I shouldn't have made you leave." She looked at me with those big blue eyes.

"It's okay, Brittany. I know you were protecting Rachel…"

"No," Greg interrupted. "Honesty, Quinn. Tell her how you feel."

Fucking A. What the hell was his deal? "There's no point."

"She's not going to break," he supplied.

That was debatable. I looked at Santana. She'd know what to do. When she nodded at me, I closed my eyes.

"Fine," I huffed. "I was angry, B. I thought we were friends. I mean I got everyone else," kind of, I thought to myself, "but not you. I just thought, out of everyone, you'd be the one to… I don't know… understand."

"It hurt me when Eva died. Not like you guys, cause I mean, I'd never say that. But it… I loved her so much. She was my little snuggle buddy. And I couldn't see what was happening really cause I was hurting. It's not an excuse. I know that. But it doesn't mater because I made the wrong decision." She shrugged at that. "I guess I'm not perfect," she smiled, more surprised by the revelation than anything. "Who knew?"

What could you even say to that? "I guess none of us are."

She nodded. "You were hurting and we blamed you… for something you didn't do. You were hurting worse than anyone… that's not fair. I'm sorry you had to be sad for us to learn a lesson, but I promise… it won't happen again. Not while I'm here." She looked around the room and crossed her arms - and just like that Scary B was out in full swing. "Next?" She dared.

Mercedes cleared her throat. "We messed up, girl. We blamed you." She winced. "It was a screwed up situation and we blamed you. I'm so sorry. I'm so mad at myself… at all of us… we could've helped but we didn't. And…" She looked at Sam.

He nodded. "I kinda caught hell cause I knew where you were and stuff," he frowned. "I should've spoken up. I was scared of what they would…"

"He doesn't always think," she interrupted. "But, he did more than most of us," she frowned again. "I wish I could go back and just do it all over again."

"Don't we all," I muttered.

She nodded sadly. "I guess. But we can promise you that we won't turn our backs on you again. We want you here. You belong here."

"Okay," I relented. I caught Sam's eye. "You did what you could…"

"Wasn't enough," he mumbled.

"Wasn't your job," I supplied.

He shook his head, but didn't answer.

"I think we all lived in this fantasy world, Quinn," Blaine said. "When it crumbled, we…" he paused. "…it's not an excuse. Nothing we can say will rectify it. But we're a family and… we let you down. It was wrong."

"I know you're all sorry," I told them. "I get it. You don't have to do this."

Rachel frowned. "We do."

"You've been doing it for over a week now, Rach. It's enough."

"Is it?" Greg asked.

I looked towards the computer screen. "Baby steps. Isn't that what you said?"

"This is baby steps, Quinn," he answered.

"Well I was a fucking tool," Puck announced. "In case anyone was wondering. I just… you were my girl, Q. And I was pissed. And you know… Rach was always the one we thought needed protecting or whatever. I just didn't see what the hell was happening until it was too late."

"We all did," Blaine added.

I sighed. "I get it. You guys are sorry. Seriously. I was the one that made those decisions. I messed up. I'm sorry it's come to this honestly, but I don't think it's completely necessary. Maybe we should…"

"Do you know how much I loved Eva," Kurt interrupted.

I held my breath. I forgot he was in here. He'd been unnaturally quiet.

"Rachel is my best friend," he sighed. "And Eva was… I can't…" he gulped and collected himself. "…I know it's selfish of me to say it… but she was one of the brightest stars in my life. And then she was just gone and… I could've stopped you that night. I almost did. I've asked myself over and over again why I let you take her. It was raining and I kept thinking… she shouldn't take her." He shuddered.

"You didn't do anything," I told him. "I mean… it wasn't your fault. I knew it was raining, Kurt."

"I'm really quite tired of death." He finally spoke. "Losing Finn was monumentally awful but… he was an adult. Eva was just… I loved her. I blamed you. For Eva's death. For Rachel. It wasn't right. But there you have it…" He waved his arm in front of him. "I am sorry. You are the only thing in this world that keeps Rachel…" he smiled at her before looking at me, "…that keeps Rachel…"

"From floating off on her self-imposed cloud of diva," San supplied. "No offense, Berry."

"Exactly." Kurt nodded at me, smiling softly. "But that's not the only reason we want you here. You're a part of our family and you can make it closer to whole if you come back. We want you here because we love you."

I smiled at him. "Thank you."

Rachel crossed her arms. "Not to interrupt your love fest, but just because you say no offense, Santana, does not mean that I don't take offense. It would be like me saying, 'No offense Satan, but your natty weave is showing."

S smirked. "I'm gonna ignore the 'natty' cause you've been through a lot lately. And you know you love me."

She sighed back. "On occasion. But only because you round out my multicultural friend circle."

"Fair," Santana answered.

Some things obviously would never change. There was a weird sort of comfort in that.

"Quinn," Hiram said, smiling at me. "We'd also like to apologize. I'm so very sorry for the way things played out this last month. Leroy's and my reaction to Rachel leaving was…" he frowned. "…unacceptable."

"You're her fathers. I expected nothing else." I tried to smile back. "I would kind of be disappointed if you just forgave me."

He nodded. "There's nothing to forgive as far as our granddaughter is concerned. You were a wonderful mother. I truly mean that. I was always so proud of the two of you and what you created. When Rachel said you were providing the egg… well, we were disappointed because we wanted another little star like her… I'm entirely too embarrassed about that now. She was an angel. More beautiful than I ever hoped to imagine. And that was because of you."

"Thank you," I whispered. I felt tears brimming. "You don't know how much that means to me."

I watched Leroy's face though. He didn't seem as happy to forgive. "You were a good mother, Quinn. I will never deny that fact."

"Daddy…" Rachel warned.

He shook his head. "Honesty, right?"

She frowned.

I nodded. "I'd prefer it, Leroy." Well, more than a bullet through the chest at any rate.

"I always did like your bluntness, Fabray."

"Same," I replied.

"I would like to apologize for my overreacting. I understand now what was happening. However, it's hard for me to get over what you did before you left."

That was fair. I didn't like to hear it, but it was fair.

"You cannot do that, Daddy. We talked about this. If you can't be supportive…"

He held up his hand. "Listen baby girl, I am being supportive. But I have a right to say it. She hurt you. I understand now at least most of her reasons, but it's hard for me to just get over it. I'm sorry if you don't want to hear that. The fact that you two are just going to jump right back into…"

"There will be no jumping," my mother said. Everyone spun to look at her. "Quinn knows this. Separate bedrooms. Where they will be sleeping separately and not together. They are going to work on healing. Are you both listening? Because I will not have you destroy your progress over these last few weeks." She eyed us both.

We both nodded like ten year olds.

"And Judy for the win," Puck whistled.

Leroy contemplated that. "You made my baby happier than she's ever been. But beside the circumstances outside of your control, which the accident was… you also hurt her worse than anyone ever could. I don't like anyone having that sort of power over her. I need you to understand where I'm coming from here."

I thought about what he said. I was a parent. Maybe not for as long as him, but… I would have done anything in my power to protect Eva. "I know how much you love Rachel. I can't fault you for protecting her. I'm glad you want to."

He nodded. "I want you to get better. I want to see you both smile again. I know that things will never be the same, but… you've both got to try. I think if you do… well, as nauseating as you two are together sometimes, you belong with each other. I will never say otherwise."

I smiled at that. "Thank you. For being honest. I thought you were going to shoot me when I got here."

He smirked. "Can't say the thought didn't cross my mind…"

"Leroy!"

"Daddy!"

He ignored Hiram and Rachel. "They were blanks," he announced, winking at me.

I couldn't help it. I laughed. It may have been the funniest, honest thing anyone had said to me today.

He started laughing as well.

The rest of them looked at us like we'd both dipped into a large vat of crazy. There were honest to god tears in my eyes.

He stood up and walked over to me. "Welcome home, Quinn," he whispered, hugging me.

I couldn't remember the last time he'd hugged me. Maybe because he had never done so. I wrapped my arms around him. "Thank you," I muttered into his chest.

I finally started crying when he kissed the side of my head.

Maybe in time this could be home.

Again.


	11. Chapter 11

**First: Thanks again for all the reviews. You guys are awesome. I am still shocked at the reaction to this story. **

**Second: The story and lesson behind it are not mine. My English prof had us read a speech called This is Water a few years ago. It kind of stuck.**

* * *

Chapter 11

"Do you have your list?" Carrie asked me.

Carrie was our new therapist. She'd been recommended by Greg, and Rachel and I saw her twice a week. Once together, and once separately. Today was a separate day.

She'd asked me to compile a list of ten things I was certain were true in my life. It seemed like an odd request at the time, but for some reason unbeknownst to me, I'd wanted to please her.

I nodded slowly. I'm not sure if I did this correctly?"

She shook her head. "There's no right or wrong way. I just want to see what you have to say."

I pulled it out and began to read:

_1. __My daughter is dead._

_2. __I love Rachel Berry._

_3. __I am an alcoholic._

_4. __I want to drink everyday._

_5. __I am angry._

_6. __I blame myself._

_7. __I am scared to drive in the rain._

_8. __I don't trust most people._

_9. __I'm afraid to sleep at night._

_10. __I am afraid I will always feel empty._

I stopped reading and looked up. She was watching me. "Any particular order?" She asked.

I shook my head. "Not really. I guess I just wrote them down as they came to me?"

She studied me for a moment. "Why do you do that? Answer a question with a question?

I shrugged. "I don't know…"

"Okay," she allowed. "Let's look at the list. Which of those things can you change? Provided you want to."

"I'd like to sleep again." I finally answered.

"That's the first thing that comes to mind?"

"Maybe. I don't want to feel guilty anymore. And I want to trust people. But…" I shrugged again. "I don't know if I ever have trusted anyone. So I'm not sure that I can start."

"You trust Rachel?"

I sighed. "I'm getting there."

"And Santana?"

I nodded at that. "She's been honest with me. I just…" I broke off and looked away. I hated admitting weakness. I wasn't supposed to need anyone. "I'd like to feel normal around everyone again but… it's not going to happen. I know that."

She caught my eye. "And how do you know that?"

"I just do."

She frowned. "Why is it so hard for you to admit that they hurt you? Is it admitting weakness? Are you afraid that someone will realize that you need them?"

Yes. To a certain extent. I knew what she was getting at. I just wasn't sure I wanted to say it out loud. I didn't answer her.

She noticed my hesitation. "Okay, let's switch gears. How are things with Rachel? Can you see the future with her?"

"I dream about it. I love her. I never stopped loving her, but I suppose that's not breaking news, is it? I would like for things to… get better."

She nodded. "Do you think they are?"

"Sometimes…"

"And?" She prompted.

"And sometimes I don't. I feel like there is something or… well, someone… several someones actually, standing in the way." I answered.

She nodded at that. "Have you given any more thought to her proposition?"

I nodded slowly. The _proposition_ she was referring to was the show Rachel was offered in London a few months from now. It had been a few years since she'd been on stage and when the offer had come in, she seemed conflicted.

"She wants me to go with her," I finally stated.

"How do you feel about that?"

Worried. Terrified. Anxious… Excited. "I want her to be happy. I think she needs this."

"And what will you do?" She studied my face. "This isn't about Rachel. It's about you. While she's working, what will you do?"

I shrugged. "I don't even know anymore." I was an essential part of Rachel's management years ago. It had made us both financially comfortable. I didn't need to do anything really. It didn't mean I shouldn't be doing something…

"What do you want to do?"

I looked down at my hands. I was embarrassed. "I've been writing some." I looked up and caught her eye. "I want to write," I finally said.

"Could you do that there?"

Easier than here, with everyone always hovering. The truth was… they were trying and I got that. I just wasn't sure if we were ever going to be able to put everything behind us. I wanted to. And to a certain degree, I believe that they did as well.

"I think so," I told her; mad at myself and how unsure I sounded. The truth was I was afraid of being alone. I knew that Rachel would be working long hours and… the thought scared me more than it should. I didn't want to be dependent on Rachel. Or anyone for that matter. I just didn't want temptation to sneak in. Every day was a battle as it was. But it was easier with the rest of them around.

"Well you don't have to decide right this moment," she said. "Let's go back to others for a moment. How are they doing with everything?"

The question was unexpected. "I… uh… I don't know. Okay, I guess."

She nodded. "You guess?"

"I mean I don't really know. Everyone was hurt obviously. I mean they've made that abundantly clear…"

"Have they?"

"Yes," I snapped.

"Does that make you angry?"

I sighed. "No. I just… sometimes they don't understand… she was my daughter. I just don't see why…"

"Okay, so let me stop you right there. I asked you earlier if why it was hard to admit that they hurt you. Have you hurt them?"

I wasn't expecting her to ask me that. "I don't want to talk about them… nothing I did was because of any of them. I just…" I stopped speaking and crossed my arms. I didn't know what she was getting at but I wasn't sure I cared.

She smiled softly. "Okay. Let's talk about happiness," she switched gears.

Just lovely. I nodded at her.

"Why do you think some people find it easy to be happy?"

I quirked my eyebrow. "Some people?"

She nodded again. "There are people who are happy. Surely you know some…" I knew she was joking, but it was a loaded question.

I shrugged. "They don't have a dead child?" My voice was harsher than it normally was where she was concerned.

If it affected her, she didn't let on. "Some do," she offered, flippantly. "Some have cancer. Some are poor. Some aren't any of those things. It's easier for them. But people… even people like you… they find happiness. Why do you think that is?"

"Ignorance," I stated firmly.

"Meaning?"

I took a second to collect my thoughts. "I think some people are too ignorant to realize that they should be sad. That things aren't always sunshine and roses."

She frowned. "That's a simplistic, and might I add, nihilistic view of the world, Quinn."

"Maybe," I answered. "But it's been my experience that the world is in fact both of those things."

I watched her face. I admired the fact that she was so professional. She never let on if I was frustrating her or if Rachel was being too verbose. She would always nod and just listen. It didn't mean she wouldn't challenge either of us.

"Have you ever heard the fish story?" She asked.

"Just keep swimming?" I arched my eyebrow at her. "I think Disney movies and their metaphors are a little mundane for an adult, Carrie."

She shook her head. "I think you're wrong, but I am not talking about that particular story." She leaned forward a little. "I heard it years ago, and it stuck with me. It was one of the reasons I became a therapist. I know that it's _simple," _she enunciated, throwing my word back in my face, as often did. "But I think that one can argue that sometimes simple is best."

I waved my hand for her to continue.

"Okay, so one day there were these two young fish swimming and they came across an older fish. The older fish smiled and nodded at them and said 'Morning, boys. How's the water?' The younger fish swam on for a bit until one of them looked at the other and said 'What the hell is water?'" She sat back. "What the hell is water, Quinn?"

"I honestly have no fucking idea," I muttered.

"_Simple_ right?" She asked.

I nodded. And nonsensical, I didn't voice.

She looked thoughtful. "I've often found myself wishing I could take credit for it."

I watched her face and realized she was completely serious. "No offense, but why? I think I'm missing the point of the story."

She sighed. "I suppose you are." She looked at her watch. "Maybe you can think about it. I'll see you and Rachel tomorrow. Let me know if you figure it out."

What the hell? I was frustrated but I tried to visibly hide it. "I'm supposed to figure out what exactly? Why you told me the story? Why three fish can talk and nod? What?"

She shrugged.

"Ugh," I muttered, grabbing my coat. "See you tomorrow," I said.

She smiled at me. "Tomorrow."

* * *

When I got home, Rachel was sitting in the study with Brittany and Kurt. Santana was nowhere to be found, and when she wasn't around, it was sometimes more trouble than it was worth to insert myself into whatever was happening. I thought about just bypassing them altogether because I was still frustrated as hell about whatever the hell Carrie was trying to tell me. I didn't like not knowing or understanding something.

"Quinn," I heard Rachel call as I was walking past the study. "How was your afternoon?"

I suppressed my eye roll, and decided avoidance was impossible at this point. I found myself moving towards their voices. "You know how it is," I shrugged.

They were all three watching me expectantly.

"We talked about fish," I stuttered.

"That's… odd," Kurt finally said.

I nodded at him. "I agree. I think it was some sort of parable, but I'm not too sure at this point. She seems to like to force me to come to my own epiphanies about stuff."

Rachel smiled at me. "Was it a story?" She asked, like a little kid.

"Apparently." I smiled back softly, trying to push down my bad mood. "A short, incomprehensible one."

"You should tell us," Brittany said. "I love stories. Is one of the fishes a princess?"

I shook my head. It had been a long time since I'd let Brittany's questions throw me off track. "No. I think they were male. It wasn't long enough for princesses to appear," I smiled at her.

"So what was it about?" Kurt asked.

"What was what about?" I heard Santana call from the doorway.

"Q has a fish story to tell us," Brittany squealed.

"Cool," Puckerman said from behind her. "Are there pirates?"

I should get an award for the amount of times I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. "No," I groaned, sitting down in one of the chairs across from Rach and Brittany. "No pirates. No princesses. No stories. It was just an analogy for something."

"For what?" Santana asked.

I shrugged back to her. "I have no idea. She wants me to think about it. Let her know what I've figured out tomorrow."

"Maybe we can help you," Kurt offered, smiling. "I mean I doubt it because if you can't decipher an analogy, chances are the rest of us are out of luck, but…"

Rachel was nodding, excitedly. "Tell us."

"It's just a silly story." I answered. I felt self-conscious all of a sudden.

"Oh come on, Fabray, maybe we can help you figure it out," Puck prompted.

Maybe they could? I wasn't sure if I was even supposed to share it. Obviously it wasn't like I was going to be reprimanded for cheating or anything. Actually, Carrie would probably be proud of that fact that I discussed it with them.

"Okay," I sighed. "It's short. And there's supposed to be a point. But… whatever. So there are two young fish swimming along one morning, and they pass an older fish who smiles and nods at them and says 'Morning, boys. How's the water?' And the two young fish swim on for a bit and then one of them turns to the other and says, 'What the hell is water?'"

They were all watching me intently.

"That's it?" Santana asked.

I nodded. "That's it."

"Yeah, that's not as exciting as I thought it was gonna be," Puck said.

"I don't recall telling you it was exciting, dumbass." I frowned.

"I think it's cool," B told us.

"Well, it's not my story, so…" I shrugged.

"What did she say after she told you?" Rachel asked. She'd pulled her feet underneath her and gotten more comfortable.

I noticed that everyone was sitting back as well. We were actually going to fucking talk about this…

"She just said, 'Well Quinn, what the hell is water?' And then time was up."

Kurt narrowed his eyes, thinking. "So we have to figure out what water is," he smiled. "I love riddles."

I shook my head. "I don't think it's a riddle. I think it's some sort of moral and I'm missing it."

"So back up," San told me. "What were you talking about before then?"

I thought about that. Maybe she was on to something. "Why it was easier for some people to be happy than others."

They all seemed to be thinking. I knew there was a connection between the story and everything we'd discussed today, but I didn't know what it was. Or if I had the energy to figure it out. I wasn't sure a parable about life was going to solve my problems.

"So what is water, then?" Kurt asked. "That's the point, right?"

I shrugged. "I guess?"

B nodded at him. "The young fish they didn't know it was water, but that's weird cause they like live in it and stuff."

We all stared at her a moment. It was a simple fucking answer to say the least and yet way too profound to come from anyone else.

"So why don't they know that?" Puck asked us. "If they like swim in every day, they should know they're in water."

"Maybe they've never been out of the water." Rachel said softly.

"Probably," I smiled at her. "It still doesn't make any sense as far as why she told me the story. Do I not know I'm swimming or whatever… like I'm missing something?"

"What else did she talk to you about?" Santana asked. "Besides happiness."

I sighed. "Rachel's offer. If I was going," I didn't chance a look at Rachel when I said that. "What I wanted to do with my life from here on out. You guys…" I trailed off.

"What about us?" Kurt asked.

I shrugged, not really ready to go there.

B was looking off into space. San nudged her. "What is it?"

"I think I get it," she finally said forlornly.

"Get what?" Half of us asked.

"Why she told you the story," she frowned at me.

"Gonna enlighten us?" San asked her.

She frowned. "I'm not sure I should. I think maybe Q is supposed to figure it out on her own. And maybe the rest of us too. It kinda makes me sad," she finished.

We all frowned at that.

"How so, Brittany?" Rachel asked. She was hugging her knees to her chest now.

"It's just… I think she's talking about fish like maybe in a fishbowl or something. Like what if they've lived there their whole life. That's the only water they know. But there's a lot of water out there. And a lot of fish. There may be a lot of fish in their bowl, but they don't even notice them." She shrugged again. "They probably think it's like just their bowl or something. And not anyone else's." She sighed at that, standing up. "I guess fish are just people too. Sometimes, people suck."

"Where are you going?" Santana asked her.

"For a walk," she said. "I want to smile at someone I don't know. That makes me happy, when someone does that for me. I feel like making someone happy today."

And with that… she left.

The rest of us just sat in awkward silence for a moment.

I swallowed everything she'd said and she was right. It was sad. "She's right," I finally said.

"Well enlighten the rest of us, oh wise one," Santana scoffed. "Cause that just confused the shit out of me."

They were nodding.

It went back to my theory about sophists. How we all existed in our reality. We forgot about the experiences of others because we couldn't experience them ourselves. Every time I wallowed in my own self-pity, I was ignoring everyone else's.

I finally sighed. "I think B is right," I muttered. "I think we all live in our own little fishbowl."

"Oh fuck," Santana moaned. "Be more specific. That doesn't make any sense."

I started to shake my head, but I noticed Rachel watching me. I couldn't remember the last time she'd looked at me like that. She really wanted to know what I was thinking.

"Basically that we all live in our own experiences. We can only suffer our own pain. We can only experience our own pleasure. So, for most people, if they let it, the world and everything in it becomes all about them. So much so that they ignore everyone else around them. It's natural. We swim in our own water, so we don't understand that it's even there. Like maybe the only thing we know is that we are important. It's hard for us to be empathetic if we don't choose to be." I looked down.

"Oh," Kurt muttered. "That seems pessimistic."

"Kinda realistic though," Puck offered.

"Why do you think she told you that story, Quinn?" Rachel asked quietly. "Is it because of what we didn't…"

"No," I stopped her suddenly. "It's not about what you did or didn't do. Any of you. It's about what I missed. It's about the fact that I have thought my grief was more important than anyone else's."

She bit her lip and looked down. "So did I…"

I shook my head. "I don't think that's the point. I think what she was trying to show was that I was angry with everyone for blaming me. Everyone was angry with me for all the things I did. And I didn't stop to think about what anyone else was going through. I've been living in a fishbowl."

Kurt cleared his throat. "So have we."

They all nodded.

"I realize," I told them. "Because that's what people do. They suffer and blame and… we just all thought our feelings were the most important. I couldn't understand how someone could possibly know what I was going through. None of you were there. And she wasn't your daughter. She was mine and Rachel's. It didn't make sense to me that you could even understand what I was feeling." I frowned. "I get it now."

Santana frowned. "It sounds like you're blaming yourself."

I shook my head. "No. I'm not. Not at all actually. I finally figured something out…" I looked towards the door. "Well with a little help from your blonde Confucius..."

Rachel's eyes were brimming with tears.

I got up and sat down beside her. "Why are you crying, sweetie?"

She sniffed. "I don't want to live in a fishbowl. That's why I love that we are all here. Together. I like that we care about each other. I can't believe I've ignored everyone else… you… I'm just…"

I put my arms around her. "Rach, this is a good thing. It means we're learning. Okay?" I kissed the side of her head.

"This is why I think school is over fucking rated," Puck interjected. "It makes my damn head hurt."

I rolled my eyes at him.

"What if I smack you upside the back of it?" S asked him. "Think that'll help?" She jumped up and reared back.

"No, woman!" He squealed. "You are way too quick with violence. You should just give me a hug instead. A full body one." He wagged his eyebrow.

"You're a pig, Noah," Rachel smiled through her tears. She wiggled out of my grasp. "But I love you," she said, hugging him tightly.

Kurt rolled his eyes this time.

Santana smirked at me.

"Holy shit, Rachel," I whined. "I did not tell you that story so you could press your body against the resident perv."

She turned her head to look at me, still hugging him. "Noah knows better, don't you?" She asked, turning back around.

He nodded at her. "Of course, princess," he smiled. When she was looking away, he smirked and wiggled that fucking eyebrow again.

I cut my eyes at him.

Kurt surprised me when he wrapped his arms around me. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "This is water, huh?"

I nodded and smiled at him as he pulled away. "I guess so."

"Guess that means I've got to start thinking about your feelings and shit," Santana mumbled to the rest of us. She turned and smacked Puck across the back of his head.

"Holy shit!" He yelled, jerking away from Rachel and rubbing it.

"Santana Lopez!" Rachel screamed.

Kurt and I found something in common though. We both thought it was funny as hell.

"Yep," she muttered. "I'm _feeling_ that that hurt you. I'm _feeling_ that you are in pain." She turned to smile at me. "This shit is fun."

"You are an evil fucking woman, Lopez," he muttered.

She shrugged. "Nah. Just empathetic. I was _feeling_ like Q was about to gut you like a fish. I was _worried_ about what you would _experience_. So I was _saving_ you from a slow painful death cause you were getting all handsy with her lady."

I shrugged at him. "Good thing she was here, asswipe."

"You know," he said, smiling at me. "I'm glad you're back. But now I'm gonna have to start sleeping with my door locked again."

"Smart," Santana and I said at the same time.

Rachel frowned over-dramatically at Kurt. "I guess we can't expect miracles to happen overnight."

He smiled back at her. "I don't know about that. But I just remembered how much I have missed one Quinn Fabray."

Rachel smiled back and turned to look at me. "Me too," she whispered.

I watched her as she put her arm around him. It used to always floor me that Rachel was so open with her emotions. I never understood why she felt the need to make everyone else feel better. Every smile, every compliment… I was usually either jealous or just completely confused.

After Eva died, Rachel stopped being so selfless. No one could really blame her. But I didn't realize that it was unnatural for her until today. For the longest time, I thought she was naïve. I thought she was ignorant of the way the world worked.

I was the ignorant one.

I realized in that moment, standing there, watching her laugh like I hadn't seen in her laugh in a very long time that she had the secret to life all along. And I was too selfish to see it.

But no more. I loved her. I wanted to be with her. And I knew that she wanted that too. I was not going to worry about myself anymore. I was going to choose not be the most important thing in the world. Maybe the way to healing was not so much about just making myself happy… that had never worked anyway.

Maybe the way to healing was going to start with others.

It was the first time I realized that I wasn't alone.

It was the first time since my daughter died that I smiled just because I wanted to.

And I didn't feel guilty about it.

I walked over to her and took her hand, pulling her away from Kurt. She seemed surprised and muttered "oh!" as I pulled her to me.

I winked at him, and he winked back.

And then I put my arms around her waist and pulled her to me. Before she could even ask me what I was doing, I bent her back and kissed her like it was the first day of the rest of our lives.

"Bout fucking time," I vaguely heard Santana say.

I couldn't have replied if I'd wanted to. I forgot what she tasted like when I was sober. She tasted like home. When I pulled away, I smiled at her. If felt good to smile.

She was standing there, her fingers on her lips, looking up at me with wide eyes.

"You broke her," Kurt laughed.

I turned to smirk at him, but I didn't get a chance. She jumped on me and I fell backwards against the couch. Her mouth was on me, before my head hit the cushion.

"And now you broke Puckerman too," S added.

I reached around Rachel, and shooed them with my hand.

"Right," Kurt said. "Let's go."

"Fuck!" Puck moaned.

"Perv," S's voice carried from the hallway.

If I could think, I would have wondered what he'd done. I couldn't form much of any thought though. I could only feel Rachel pressed sweetly against me. I could only concentrate on the soft sounds she was making against my lips.

She finally pulled away and I felt a rush of air pass between us. When I opened my eyes, she was straddling my legs, smiling down at me. "I have missed you so, so much," she giggled, kissing my nose.

"I've missed me too."

She moved off my lap and sat down beside me, putting her head on my shoulder. "Okay. Don't go anywhere ever again. It's too hard to be without you."

I kissed the side of her head and pulled her to me. "Love you," I whispered against her.

She snuggled into me, wrapping her arms around my waist. "I love you. To the end of the universe. With my last breath."

My breath got caught in my throat. "You remembered?"

"Brittany told me. I've been waiting for a while to say those words."

I ticked her side. "You totally stole my line."

She shrugged, giggling. "It's a good line." She sat back. "You're the writer. I'm the actress." I knew in her head that that totally made sense. How could I not love someone like that?

I felt tears fill my eyes. Normally I would wipe them away. I would hide my face from her.

"Why are you crying?" She asked. She was panicking.

"Happy tears," I whispered.

"Really?" She seemed in awe.

"Really."

"Can I take a picture?" She asked, biting her lip.

"What the hell?" I asked. "Why would you want to do that?"

She put on her resolve face. "Because Quinn Fabray, as you well know I like to record milestones and momentous occasions for posterity and reflection. I believe this qualifies as both."

"Hell no," I shook my head, laughing. "You're kind of a dork."

She shrugged. "You're the one that loves me. What does that make you?"

I smiled at her. "Fair question." I kissed her again.

Lucky, I didn't say. It made me lucky.


End file.
